


Prove Yourself to me

by Mistykins06



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Victorian, F/M, Maid Molly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-09 18:07:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4359044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mistykins06/pseuds/Mistykins06
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life of late has not been very kind to Molly Hooper. Her situation has been greatly diminished and has led her to accepting the offering of being a quiet, unremarkable servant. However, her new home is far from quiet. It's occupants are eccentric, lively and one of them is far too handsome for Molly's peace of mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N have you seen the fabulous art Umeko-Sherlloly (tumblr) has done for a Victorian Sherlolly AU? It's phenomenal. I was inspired from the very first time I saw her work. The anticipation for the Special is killing me, and this story has roared back into my head. I also have to thank the wonderful TheNewJefferson for her patience, support and input. Thank you! Hope you enjoy!

If we are to be inferior to man, it is man who has decided thus and certainly not a woman. Unknown

London, 1895

The cart jostled and tossed about as it pulled to a stop in front of an unassuming grey stone numbered 221 Baker Street in London. The driver hopped down to assist his passenger, a pale young woman, down from the perch on the back of the wagon. The tiny thinG smiled at him as he assisted her and her single valise to the kerb, nodding as he took the few pence she offered and drove off.

The young woman grabbed her carpet bag, and after taking a moment to stare at the stone building in front of her before crossing to use it's off centered knocker. Meer moments passed before an older woman, familiar and dear opened the door.

"Aunt Martha!" The young woman smiled warmly. It felt strange for her to do so she half noted.

"Oh Molly-mine! How are you, dear thing? Come! Come!" Her dearly loved aunt stepped down and hooked her arm around her shoulder pulling her in through the dark door to an equally dark entry way.

"Did you get everything settled once and for all, dear?" Her aunt asked gently.

Molly nodded silently. It had not been an easy morning, leaving her childhood home for the final time. Her father had recently passed and their home and business had needed to be auctioned off to pay past debits.

At the age of twenty-seven, Miss Molly Hopper found herself an old maid, nearly desolate with no income, no home, and no prospects. Thank providence that Aunt Martha had recently convinced her tenant that she need assistance. A life of service it was to be then. It could have been worse, Molly comforted herself. It even worked a bit to cheer her. She was far more fortunate then some others would be in her situation.

"Let's have some tea shall we? Come to the kitchen, just set that bag down here. Archie is still in school and Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson are off to the countryside. They are expected to be gone for a week or more, so it's just us for now. But I don't take tea in the sitting room even so, it just leads to more cleaning after all."

Molly unhooked her dark cloak, carefully hanging it on the rack, her eyes looked curiously at the array of caps that adorned the top of the coat rack, even the funny brown deer stalker her new employer was known for.

She wondered at him a moment. Aunt Martha had told her many amusing stories of the young man she served as housekeeper for. Of a man who went days silent and still as marble and entire evenings playing his violin till the sun rose anew. How he had taken care to ensure that her awful uncle met the gallows and how he would often nip her Aunts delicious mince pies like a naughty boy. Of experiments and sciences, and botany and bees. That he allowed her aunt to raise her grandson Archie, after the loss of his parents, was an unexpected warmth after all the wild behaviors she'd heard about made her greatly curious about the man.

In truth, he sounded utterly fascinating.

Molly smiled and wondered if he was true to the sketch that the papers ran of him. Aunt described him as handsome, but noted that she had never seen him show any interest in the fairer sex. Then she'd smile in a knowing way and say how the only one he spent much time with was John Watson. Molly never understood quite what the woman meant, but would nod in agreement. She supposed she'd have the opportunity to draw her own conclusions upon meeting the two gentleman herself. And to see if he was as tall and angular and cold looking as his associate was shown to be jovial and kind looking.

Pulling off her bonnet, Molly glanced at the mirror in the entry. She smoothed the hairs that stood up and looked over her own appearance. There she stood, small, pale and unsmiling. No great beauty, but she had straight teeth and clear complexion. She would do well as an invisible maid with her plain features. This thought failed to give her any comfort at all.

"Everything's laid out, are you coming?" Came a voice down the hall.

"Yes, Aunt." Molly followed the sound of the voice till she reached a light filled kitchen, settling herself at the small table where the cups set. When the kettle rang out Aunt Martha brought it over and wait down.

"I'm afraid you will soon have to call me Mrs. Hudson, my dear. It wouldn't do to forget and call me that with others about. "

"Others being guests or the master of the house?" Feeling a tingle of worry.

Patting her hand, Aunt Martha calmed her. "Oh no worries. More the propriety of running the home than of avoiding connections. As landlady and the housekeeper, I am Mrs. Hudson and you shall simply be called Molly. When you are away you may use your title as Miss. Hooper, if you so wish."

Plain Molly. No need to be singled out for her name and connection to her father. Molly couldn't decide if the thought brought comfort or made her grieve the beloved man all the more.

"Anything else I need to know?" The younger woman asked, sipping her tea.

Smiling kindly, Aunt set a fresh scone and clotted cream on her plate. "The front entrance is only to be used by visitors and the tenants. You and I, Archie and Billy, our man of all work, use the rear entrance. Our things stay at that entrance not the vestibule. We have the kitchen and the small room you see there to work on this floor. I have recently renegotiated the lease so that I may have the small chamber on this floor to sleep, and you are to have my old room below stairs. Billy has a room there as well, but stays with his family unless Sherlock needs him to stay for a particular reason. Archie has his same room behind the kitchen as well. "

Alone. She'd be all alone downstairs, not that the promise of 'Billy' as company seemed at all appealing. How strange this new life would be! How she longed to return back to her former home and life. But that was not possible. Those days had passed.

"Scone for your thoughts?" Aunt Martha asked softly, shaking Molly from her unhappy thoughts. Oh! She was crying, she hadn't meant to do that. Blast!

"Oh me! I'm fine. I promise you I am, I just... I never expected I'd be here, in this position." Struggling up and wiping off the tears. Her host stood as well and pulled her into a hug.

"Never fear, you are fine. Grief takes time to heal from, but you will feel better soon. Your father was a good, good man and you did what you could, my child. And look how fortunate we are to get to be together!" The soothing words and hug calmed Molly a good bit.

Wiping her cheeks her aunt asked. "Now, would you like to see the room?"

Nodding, Molly went to retrieve her bag, containing the only possessions she had left to her name, to see her new room. The small back stair lead round to another hall and a series of small rooms.

"The bath and toilet closet are in here, the wash is done in this room with the fire place. There's also a pantry just through there and Billy's room is on the other side of yours." Aunt Martha stopped by the door and pulled a heavy key ring from her apron pocket, unlocking the door before her. "Here it is! A bit shabby but not too bad I must say." The door came open to reveal a small, but well lit very serviceable room. Each wall had a lovely large floral wallpaper on a jade green background. The bed was large and covered by a plain but high quality white coverlet. It was bare, but with a little brightening would be lovely.

"It will suit me well." Molly assured, speaking as much to herself as to her aunt.

"Well, I shall let you settle in. I'll be up stairs working on a small supper for us." Aunt Martha moved to walk out but turned back, "I'm so glad you've come dear. It may not have been your first choice to be in service, but I do believe you might do well here with us," with a warm smile she closed the door.

Once alone, Molly looked about the sparse space. She walked to the chair where her valise lay. Undoing the buckle, she lifted the top before pulling out the meager contents, a black work dress, suitable for her mourning and work and a slightly finer navy dress trimmed in black. Unrolling the dresses, she took out the precious contents wrapped inside. With hesitant and gentle hands, she lifted out the photo taken on her parents wedding day before placing it on the side table. Their youthful faces put Molly to ease as they stared up at her. Turning back, she removing her hand mirror (that once belonged to her mother as well) as well as her toothbrush and tooth powder that were tucked into her night clothes and spare undergarments.

After putting away her few clothes, Molly next pulled out the few books she had been able to save. A copy of Pride and Prejudice that belonged to her mother and her father's note filled Grey's Anatomy volume. Those she placed beside the photograph on the table as well.

And with that she was done. It took no more than three minutes for Molly to get situated with all the belongings she owned in the world. When she realized this she thought back to the warm full home that she had shared with her father just months before. True, they had never been truly wealthy but they had been comfortable.

And now that was all gone, just like her mother and father. And now Molly Hooper was living with her aunt and employed as a maid. She was fortunate she knew, to have this opportunity. Many girls in her position were not so fortunate and would have a very different opportunity to support themselves. One that made Molly's stomach churn and sent shivers of terror down her limbs. It brought back memories that she wished she could simply banish of cold eyes and a mocking face and of feeling used and worthless.

Thankfully, a knock sounded at the door as it popped open enough for a dark curly haired head to pop in. "Molly?"

"Archie! Oh do come in!" Grateful to have her young cousin as a distraction, Molly welcomed him in warmly.

"All settled in then, Molly?" The boy grinned. "I picked these for you. To give you a proper welcome to Baker Street." The boy pulled a hidden small bouquet of Lazy Susan's and daisies.

"How lovely! Just the thing I needed to brighten the room. I shall see if your Gran has a vase I may borrow. I'm all set in here anyways."

"Oh. Um...Alright. Let's go." The boy bounded out the door and up the stairwell into the kitchen where Molly heard him call out to Aunt as he rushed through. "I'm off to pick up the books, Gran. I'll be home for supper." He said as he disappeared through the houses back door.

"Archie!" Mrs. Hudson called out. "You are in serious trouble! There'll be no pudding with supper tonight young man." Turning back to see Molly, she gave an exasperated sigh. "Between that boy, and the masters of the house I shall lose all my sense and reason, Molly."

"What's the matter?" Molly consoled. Archie couldn't have been home five minutes. He couldn't have gotten into much trouble in that amount of time. Could he?

"Those flowers. He'll have picked them from Mrs. Bardsley's garden again that naughty, naughty boy!" She exclaimed.

"You mean to say that he... Stole them? For me?" Molly worried.

"You see! That is exactly the type of behavior he's learned from Mr. Holmes. Oh, that man and I will have words on his return." The woman bustled about pulling one vase after the other. All were too large for the small, illicitly obtained arrangement. Finally, she pulled out a wide mouthed glass with an even wider base.

"Is that an Erlenmeyer flask?" Molly asked, surprised to see it among her aunts collection.

"Oh, how would I even begin to know, child." Mrs. Hudson chided. "He brings such strange things here. All sorts of equipment for his wild experiments- don't even get me started on what he finds to experiment on!" She looked half ready to tell, but must have thought better of it.

Once some water had been pumped into the glass, Aunt turned to hand it to Molly who then began arranging the contraband flowers while her murmuring Aunt began chopping vegetables to stew. Her words going on and on about the dangers of handsome men with no respect for rules and how it seemed to be her lot in life to be surrounded by them.

Molly half listened as she became familiar with the contents of the kitchen, taking stock of which herbs and seasoning were available and which pans where kept where. It was a terribly modern kitchen, well kept by her aunt and amply supplied with all sorts of equipment and seasoning. "You run a fine kitchen, Aunt."

"Oh, if only those men would allow me to do some actual preparing! No, Molly, I'm afraid they prefer small and quick meals. It makes me feel as if I run a cafe they eat so speedily. Or not at all, in Mr. Holmes case. Doctor Watson, now he adores his sweets. Do you still enjoy baking Molly? Both of them are sticklers for biscuits with their tea."

"Oh, I've never baked all that much of late, but I would like to learn. I can do a simple shortbread, that was father's favorite. Oh, and I do thumbprint cookies."

"Those would make them happy. Sherlock prefers a chocolate one, but will only complain mildly at those two options. Between us we may actually have a surplus. Assuming we can keep them away from Archie. And ourselves too, of course." She laughed, and Molly smiled warmly in return.

"It sounds like I have much to learn about your young tenants."

"They are unusual in their schedules and habits." Nodding, Mrs. Hudson went back to her stew preparations. "But they are a lot of fun. Makes me feel like a young girl again being part of their adventures. Although, I have to have a word with Doctor Watson about how he references me! My goodness you'd think all I do show people the stairs room and make their breakfasts." She tsked. "Oh, and remind me to tell him how awful the place looks in the illustrations. Positively dingy! And you know as well as I that 221 B Baker Street is in fine tip-top shape."

Slamming the lid on the pot, Mrs. Hudson turned to Molly. "Strong words indeed!"

"Now then," she spoke, removing her apron. "Let's give you the grand tour."

Taking Molly room to room, Mrs. Hudson showed her the house top to bottom. In each room she explained what duties needs to be performed daily and weekly and the variances from when the men were home versus away. Dusting, washing, cleaning, along with cooking, mending and whatever else would come up during the day. Molly's head was nearly spinning by the end at the prospect.

All that, in addition to keeping up with Archie. No wonder her Aunt needed her help to do everything with an aching hip.

Next, they discussed wardrobe options. Mrs. Hudson pulled out several older work dresses that would need to be hemmed along with crisp white aprons and caps. A classic maid's uniform, she noted. They discussed whether Molly had the proper necessary undergarments and shoes for labour before they made plans to purchase a new set of half stays and new work boots for Molly. She had not even begun to work and would need to spend her entire pay check.

Archie returned home from his 'errand' and the three sat down at the small kitchen table for the delicious stew. Following dinner, they settled into the small parlor to read. The fiction collection that Aunt had was small and focused more on youthful romance ( a subject that she dearly wished to avoid at present time) so Molly instead perused an ancient cookbook for biscuit recipes to attempt over the coming days. When Archie began yawning over his drawing board, Aunt announced it was time to retire.

Molly received a tight hug from young Archie around her hips before the lad darted off, leaving his Gran to lower lights before then turning to give Molly a candle and a good long hug of welcome. "I'm so glad you are here. I worried so for you, all alone as you were." She pulled back before patting Molly's cheek tenderly. "But we'll not talk of the past. You are here with family and we are happy to have you, Molly dear." She placed a kiss on her forehead, the like Molly had not experienced in many a years. "Goodnight then, love."

It took Molly a moment to settle her racing, aching heart before making her way down the stairs. How strange to be alone in this new house! She pulled off the day dress she wore, taking care to brush it and hang it on its new peg. Sitting in her lone chair, she pulled the pins from her hair and drew her fingers through it, delighting in the way the free flowing tress felt after a long day piled on her head. She stood to remove her stays when suddenly the door slammed open and a tall dark man with flashing light eyes burst in.

"Who are you, and what the devil are you doing naked in my house, madam?"


	2. Chapter 2

The hackney cab rambled on at a tortuously slow pace along the street leading through London back to Baker Street. The two occupants inside were silent and wary after a long day of travel and days away from home. Doctor John Watson sat chin dropping down as sleep overtook him. His esteemed partner, Sherlock Holmes sat still but alert, mindless of the city passing by and longing to be settled in the comforts of his home.

The case had been a kidnapping of a wealthy lord. Simple enough to determine it was his brother attempting to extort money to pay off gambling debts and a mistress threatening scandal. Further proof that women were a terrible influence on a man. That man allowed himself to be affected so by simple attraction and anatomy was appalling. Such weakness his sex had! To be swayed and brought low by a smile and their own lusts for a few moments pleasure. Oh what fools these mortals be...

The hackney pulled to a stop and Sherlock Holmes popped out and crossed around the cab, stilling as he reached the sidewalk. A light shown from the lower rooms of 221. A space that should have been empty. With a quick evaluation of his watch he ruled out of being young Archie. The lad was usually long sent to bed by this time of night to his own room beyond the kitchen with Mrs. Hudson not long behind him. Which meant there was someone in his house. An intruder.

John, from behind him was paying the cabbie and retrieving their bags, paid no attention to his friend standing on the sidewalk hitting him as he turned to follow him in. "Why the devil are you standing here on the walkway, Holmes! At least get the door!" The groggy man complained.

"There's a light coming from downstairs, Watson." He looked over his shoulder at the man. "Shall I see if our guest has found whatever they are looking for?" He quirked up a smile before reaching into his partners overcoat and retrieved the pistol that the good doctor always kept there.

"Oh, so I suppose that I'll see to Mrs Hudson and Archie then shall I?" The older man groused, more sore that he wasn't getting to be the one holding the made toward the front door while Watson made his way towards the rear of the residence placing deftly balanced steps on the staircase and slipped silently down. When he reached the lowest floor he paused and looked around for clues. Three sets of footprints went down. Archie's careless muddy imprint along with Mrs. Hudson's shoe shape, the gait making it obviously hers from her hip pain but the third set, those belonged to a younger woman in slippers.A woman who should not be there.

Both John and himself had begun to be approached by more and more brazen fanatic admirers with all sorts of flattery and their antics. Not three weeks past John had been drugged in an attempted seduction and entrapment. Two months prior to that a woman had come to the door claiming that she was his former lover and the child she carried was his own. Both where obsessive and sex crazed and both had reminded the bachelors that woman were dangerous creatures.A fact that he was well reminded of now as he approached the door where the light shone out of. This must be a bold and determined creature indeed to come into their home. Well, he would soon find out.

Pistol locked and loaded, but hidden inside his coat, Sherlock turned the handle and burst he found a small petite woman dressed only in her underthings, he shouted. "Who are you, and what the devil are you doing naked in my house, madam?" the woman screamed and lunged for her freshly hung dress to cover herself but the man darted after her and grabbed her arms, pulling them to his chest. "They'll be no escape Madame." He said, ice filling his voice as he pulled her close.

"Please, oh please let me go!" She begged. What was happening!

"Not until I find out what it was you are after. Were you going to attempt a seduction? I assure you that I have no interest in bedding you a'tall. So what then, you plan to defame me? Claim it was I who stole your virtue and led you astray? Ha!" The man's voice was deep, dangerous, and completely distracting. His features were fierce and hard as he glared at her like she was a vile insect. "Who are you, and whom do you work for? Tell me for what purpose?" He shook her, determined to get her to speak.

Molly tried to find a logical reasoning and understanding of what was going on. One moment she had been undressing for the night and now this man with a voice like she'd never heard the likes of before was holding her close while interrogating her as to what dark fiend she was supposedly plotting. "My aunt! I'm here at the bequest of my aunt, sir. Now please unhand me this instant!" Molly shrieked, terror reigning over her.

"Who is your aunt and why did she send you to gain my attention?" Molly noticed a slight hint of curiosity about him, as if her answer intrigued him but it was nothing compared to the anger rolling off the tall man. Such a tall man with such an angular face. Oh, but he must be Mr. Sherlock Holmes!

"Martha Hudson, sir. I am her niece, Molly... of whom she has asked to come and work with her. I am to be the new housemaid... Sir," She finished strongly and quietly. They each looked at one another, even as another set of boots thudded down the stairs.

"Sherlock, I believe there is no need for action. Mrs Hudson is safe and informs me that there is no intruder merely her..." John stopped as soon as he spotted the two entangled before him. "Oh." His eyes shot back and forth between each of them. "Well... It would seem you two have already met."

"Ah." He froze, sending steel grey eyes about her person making Molly feel keenly her lack of clothing. They both seemed to realize that the other posed no threat and he dropped her hands with such rapidness that Molly would have thought she had burnt himself, yet still he looked at her. What could he be seeing?

Shame and embarrassment swept over her as Molly attempted to cover herself from the men before her. She wished to have at least a a shaw in the room, as she has no dressing gown to cover herself.

"Eh, Sherlock, perhaps we should let the young lady get some rest?" Doctor Watson spoke with averted eyes to his companion.

"No, I shall not be able to retire myself until I've vetted this... Issue." He waved a hand almost dismissively at her. "Get dressed Miss and meet me in the lounge. You have five minutes and no more. Understood?"Nodding, Molly scarcely breathed as he dipped his head in acknowledgment towards her and backed out of the room, leaving it to slowly grow dimmer somehow.

Quickly, she pulled the same dress as she'd worn earlier off its peg and pulled it on. Fingers flying to do up its buttons, she realized how fast her time was passing. It was going to take her too long to do up the laces of her boots and her hair... There was no time to do more than push it over behind her shoulders. She paused and wondered if he'd dismiss her for her lack of proper dress. Or, would he do so if she took her time and arrived late. Molly shuddered to think of him glowering at her and questioning her.

Trusting promptness was the more important than quality she slipped, loose haired and barefooted, to meet the man upstairs. What a wild thought! Nervousness was making her nearly shake with each step. What would he ask of her, how to would she answer. Would he be able to see through her lies and half truths? Oh God, if she lost this position how would she find another? Perhaps she'd have to go to him after all to stay off the streets...No. Never that, and never to him for help. She would find a way to convince this Sherlock Holmes that she was capable and worthy. 'Are you though? Really? No, Molly, I think you're forgetting just how unremarkable and unnecessary you are', that voice mocked to her.

'No! You can do it Molly girl, I know you can. You just have to breathe.' That voice, the voice of her father was far more welcome to her. She did as he told her and breathed deeply, knocking on the lounge door.

"Enter," Boomed the voice of her new employer. Molly pulled the door and then looked at it, unsure of whether to close it or leave it open. Sherlock, no Mr. Holmes, looked at her and she knew he saw her indecision. He huffed and motioned for the door to remain open. "Well then..."

He looked at her questioningly. Oh her name! "Molly, sir."

"Molly, I appreciate your taking the time to get properly attired." The voice dripped with sarcasm and Molly felt her skin heat. As if she had been somehow acting indecently by getting changed in the privacy of her room. Then she noted that his strangely light eyes lingered on her hair down across her shoulders before starting almost knowingly at her hidden feet. Leaving it down had clearly been a mistake as had the shoes. Not a great start Molly...

"How long have you been staying here in my home then?" He spoke opening his coat to be seated.

"I think you'll find that this is still MY home, Mr. Holmes." The voice of Martha Hudson called in as she rushed into the room, hair up but wearing a dressing gown. Doctor Watson right behind her. "And that Molly is here at my bequest."

"So good of you to join us Mrs. Hudson, is the young lady to be living here as the new lady of the home, or is she to be a housemaid?" The man answered. Doctor Watson walked from behind her over to a decanter on a side table and began to pour two fingers of an amber colored liquor into a glass.

"I'm here to work, sir," Molly spoke firmly.

"And will your Aunt be paying you?"

"I... We haven't...," She faltered.

"Sherlock, you agreed that I needed help keeping up with the place," Mrs Hudson reminded.

"Yes, yes I did." He pushed off the desk and walked toward his landlady. "However, I made myself perfectly clear that you should call Sally Donavan for the position."

Mrs Hudson balked at the seated man. "To which I said I would consider. After I'd done so, I decided my niece was a more respectable option then a-"

"That's enough, Mrs Hudson!" Sherlock shouted. "If a new housemaid is to be employed, and I am to be paying her then she will need to be of use to me. I'll not have you and your prejudices dismiss a fine option." Molly blanched, he was rather unapologetic about his intentions with the maid. "And Sally is a fine intelligent woman who was ill-used by her former employer. That does not make her a woman of ill repute Mrs. Hudson, as you well enough know." He cast a significant glance at the older woman that made her huff and deflate mildly.

"She bore him a child, Sherlock. It's not simply something that can be dismissed as idle gossip or heresy. You can't deny that she has no husband, that she has a damaged reputation and would only bring contempt and shame to this already scandalous residence. Besides, you haven't met my Molly and I think she would suit your needs very well."

Molly's thoughts couldn't fathom what her aunt meant. Hadn't she herself said that the man seemed to have no interest in woman? Or perhaps he was just not fond of affairs of the heart? Did be simply use woman to get what he wanted then abandoned them? Did he want this Sally because he planned to take advantage of her like her previous employer? Another fresh wave of panic clenched her and she fought to keep her feet grounded, if she stayed would that be her?

"Why? Has she some hidden talent that I'll find useful?" He stood and walked closer to her. "Because all I see is a soft woman, unused to the hardships of housework. A woman who cries half the day in her grief over her father and her other losses. Financial difficulties and a failed romance was it? Did the gentleman no longer find you appealing when your father's debts became known and you no longer had his once good name to protect you. You are rather small and plain, perhaps a rival stole him away leaving you broken-hearted and alone, hmmm?

"The fact is Miss, that I simply don't think that you are qualified enough nor capable enough to be of use to my household or myself. I need people who are a more than just average and have their wits together." His light eyes looked hard as slate as they bore into her own. "Stay tonight and then in the morning we'll find you a new position somewhere, well anywhere else."

Doctor Watson himself was clearing his throat and giving his friend a significant look. "Now Sherlock,-" Mrs Hudson began before being cut off by Molly herself.

"No!" Molly cried. "Give me a chance please! Let me show you, I'll... I'll work hard and stay out of the way. You won't even know that I'm here at all. Please. You... You were right. I have nothing left. Nothing. No one save my aunt and young cousin. Please, give me one month to prove my value. I will work hard to please you. I beg you." She may have started her speech desperate and shrill, but she calmed herself and finished it strong.

The man before her studied her face to discern her honesty, finding no hidden duplicity, he shifted his eyes to his companion and waited for some signal. Molly didn't dare look over her shoulder though. Her eyes were too focused on gaining this man's favor and securing her fragile security. She was as she'd admitted, well and truly desperate to stay.

"We'll give you one week -."

"Two. Give me two weeks before you make a decision."

The corner of his mouth turned up, as if her bartering had amused him. "Agreed."

"Two weeks, bah. She'll be fine. What dramatics over a lot of nothing." Her aunt dithered.

"We shall see in two weeks won't we now, Mrs. Hudson?" The tall man answered. He strode away and nearly flopped back into the large leather chair. "You are dismissed, Molly. Mrs. Hudson, what are the chances that you have a sandwich or two that John and I could have. The food at the inn we stayed at was terrible."

Molly didn't stay in the room long enough to find out her Aunts response. She slipped into the hall and down the stairs toward the kitchen. Only making it to the steps when she felt her knees shake give in and she clung to the railing trembling to hold herself up. Pulling in breath after breath she tried in vain to cease. Hearing footfall behind her she turned, wild eyed to see her aunt coming towards her.

"Oh Molly, love. There there, it will all sort itself out. They'll see how capable you are. Shhh." Mrs. Hudson pulled her into a hug and soothed her hair. Oh, how long since someone had last stroked her hair lovingly! "Now, let's get you to bed. This all won't look so dim in the morning light as it does now."

To be honest, Molly had no idea if she'd agreed or argued it. But soon she found herself back at the room she was to call her own, if only for two mere weeks. She changed clothes distractedly but this time no interruptions came and she slid into bed. Closing her eyes, she listened to her pulse race as she finally allowed a moment to relax. She had time to prove her capabilities. Time enough to learn. This was possible, she'd make it so. She had done things in the past that she never thought she could. This was just another task to conquer.

She would prove her worth to them all and him in particular. And as she drifted to sleep she found herself considering him and just what color those beautiful eyes had been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the amazing response to this fic. The idea has been in my head for the longest of time and I am enjoying where it's been leading. An Especial thanks to my Dear darling Beta, TheNewJefferson who gives so much in her edits. My works is greatly polished by her and her insight.


	3. Chapter 3

Something was going to have to be done about the new maid.

In the days since her arrival, Molly managed to endear herself to the other members of the household. Mrs Hudson, as her aunt already held a tender spot for the woman, but it was Molly’s physical abilities along with her willingness perform the tasks that she herself could no longer could perform that left her all the more appreciative of her. John, fool that he was,   
admired her efficient organization, as well as the biscuits she made (those were the source of that new damnable ginger smell that seemed to seep into everything, including the wash and was keeping Sherlock’s senses more alert in his home than ever before) and of course there was Archie. The lad adored her company and could always be found near her while she worked and entertained him with her stories and silly songs. There was also the matter of the scamp loving those delicious biscuits as well. 

Sherlock Holmes, however, was not a fan of her. The damnable woman was everywhere. Cleaning, moving things about and cheerfully greeting clients all while baking biscuits and scones. Everywhere he went there was obvious evidence of her being there. An extra shine on the mantle, more light pouring in through sparking panes of glass. She'd even done something about that creaking step on the stairwell- the one that had always alerted him to anyone's presence on the stairs, now gone, leaving him unaware once or twice as someone neared the room. And then there was the damn woman herself, whose stealthy entry the day before. Which irritated him ( how had she come in so quietly?) and led him to meditate on to insufferable woman herself some more. Try as he might, every time he saw her he found his eyes drawn to her busy form. No matter what task she was up to, it seemed that he took notice of her everywhere; could nearly sense her location at all times in the house. And should he walk by her, he couldn't help studying the woman as she worked to mop the hall, stirred at the evening stew or that one time he'd seen her relaxed with her afternoon tea as she sat with a gentle content smile with her eyes closed. 

It's not that she was especially lovely to look upon, but there was a certain undeniable beauty to her. Perhaps it was that along with her ineffectual attempt to hide that made her stand out so to him all the more. Sherlock never had been able to resist a mystery. Yes, that must be all it was. Why it was that she seemed to capture his attention all the more for her need to it. After all, she seemed to take a natural inclination to staying as far away from him as possible, avoiding him whenever she could. They never spoke to one another past that first evening. Not that he’d needed to know much more than his initial deductions told him. Still though, she was a distraction. A distraction that needed to be dealt with before he got further distracted by deep brown eyes that were sad and warm silken hair that was soft and... 

She needed to go. Soon. He'd not let all his hard work be ruined by an utterly avoidable dalliance with the hired help. And that wasn't only the danger of a physical distraction precisely, he needed help that could be of help to him. Like Sally, she had a crude manner about her and a sharp tongue to boot but she was whip smart and had this ability to make others listen. That along with her connections could open doors to a portion of London that wouldn't trust him on principal alone. Sally Donovan would be an asset to him, small babe and all. Molly, determined as she was to keep to boring housekeeping tasks would never suit his extraordinary needs.

But how to address his problem? The familial connection between her and Mrs. Hudson was most unfortunate. As much as the older lady loved him, the tie to her niece threatened to break that completely. So whatever he did he had to make it strong enough to make Molly, and Molly alone want to leave. It was going to be tricky and he had to be careful. A plan began to take hold. Ah...yes that should be enough to take care of that pesky maid! 

 

That night Sherlock and John got summoned to a robbery at a local clerics office. It was a simple case, no more than a three, yet Sherlock jumped on it with surprising excitement, according to Doctor Watson. Disgruntled former employee, but it served to keep the two men out late. Which was exactly what Sherlock had intended. For the next morning he awoke late, rising only when the maid came in to perform her duties, finding him still in bed, but utterly unclothed save the thin sheet off the bed. 

And it was thusly dressed that his new maid stumbled into the room. 

"Oh! Forgive me, sir." She let out a soft whisper and went to back out of the bedchamber. 

With a stretch and groan, Sherlock's sleep thickened voice called out. "No, no, come in, after all I am awake now." Sherlock sat up and pulled the corner of the sheet around himself before watching from under his lashes as the maids lips stayed in the form of a surprised 'o' before she pressed in to draw the rooms curtains and stoke and rebuild the fire. Sherlock rose from the bed stretching and walking over to the window, admiring the street below. The sheet, however he left upon the center of the bed. 

Molly turned around to move to the next task and was greeted by Sherlock’s very much nude backside. She stood still as her eyes roamed over the form before she remembered herself and spun away from him. "Did you... need your dressing gown, sir? Or, um... clothing?" 

He smiled into the window, before calmly replying, "Oh no, I'd prefer to stay like this for now, thank you. Invigorates the mind and awakens the senses."

"Al- alright.. Sir," Molly stuttered. That man! He was insisting on walking around in the nude! Molly was struggling to keep her eyes on her task of making the bed and not allowing herself to look at his creamy skin and the spattering of freckles across those deceptively strong shoulders. The very alluring freckles that lead down to his... Molly pinched herself on the back of her hand reminding herself that she most certainly should be avoiding the man. Definitely not staring at the skin and muscle structure that closely resembled the marble statues she and her friends would titter over at the museum when they'd been younger. Task at hand Molly, stick to the task at hand! She shook herself got refocus her eyes and her thoughts.

Once the bed was made she need only take care of the fire, chamber pot, and wash stand before she could leave his presence. Mr Holmes continued his standing watch of the alley below, so Molly locked her eyes on the wash stand, and that alone. It was however, attached to a mirror. A mirror that reflected the physique on display behind her far too well. Her gaze was interrupted as the man in the mirror turned, yawned sleepily and reached up to ruffle his gently curling hair. He began a slow leisurely stroll to the wardrobe. Strolling as if he had absolutely no shame as he did so. Not that he had anything to be ashamed of, Molly’s mind noted. She caught her own burning reflection in the mirror as she shifted her focus off of his back side and considering on her own face; bright and rosy and very, very alert. How she wasn't absolutely sparking on fire from the burning shame she didn't quite know. Once more she told herself that he was just a man. No different from any she’d seen in her father's anatomy books. Besides he wasn't the even the first man that she had seen without his clothes on...Well she couldn't dwell on that now. Not with the Adonis behind her being the one on whom her position depended. In fact, she wouldn't put it past him to do this simply to test her. That must be it! Well, if that was so, she most certainly was not going to let him win. Stealing her breath, grabbed the wash bowl from the table in front of her and turned towards him, holding it at an uncomfortable height, but one that blocked her view of the most basic party of his... Maleness. 

She went to her bowl waiting in the hall to transfer to used liquids and returned to her duty. Avoiding looking at her employer who was idly thumbing through the wardrobe at all cost. It didn't seem to help at all. Molly was still all too aware of the man mere feet from herself. And it wasn't merely his nudity that bothered her, but instead her own traitorous reaction to him. The way she longed to look her fill and to run her fingers along the line of abdominal muscles. She'd never experienced the desire to do so with her father’s clients. And she'd never wondered how the anatomy diagrams touch would have felt as they held her. No, this was an entirely different thirst for knowledge that he was inspiring in her. She knew from when he'd held her how firm those muscles were and just how warm his hands were as they spread across her back, pulling her close...

"Are you quite done Molly, or was there something else you needed?"

"Oh. Well I, that is..." Damn damn damn. Had she simply been standing there? "I apologize sir, I was lost in thought. I was...Reminded of my father," Molly hastily lied. She most assuredly had not been thinking of her father. 

An eyebrow shot up. "You were thinking about your father?" His obvious disbelief was tangible. 

Oh no, she really didn't want to talk of her father. Not particularly ever and certainly not right now with this naked man. "I mean.. I.. You see...How..."

"On with it, Molly! I do not have all day."

“I'd assist him in the mornings. Help to dress and shave him in when he became to ill to do so himself." She paused before a thought struck her. "The way you are wondering about... Waiting, almost as if you were waiting for someone to dress you... it reminded me of my father, I suppose."

Ah. He seemed to accept that answer mercifully, but still he stood there looking at her as he accepted her explanation, looking unsure of himself only for a moment before his expression grew into a challenging smirk, as if he were a kitten who’d been given a pan of cream. Molly’s eyes looked onto his lips. Oh those lips… they were a problem. Those lips were a big problem. Not them so much, as Molly’s fascination with them. Paired with the voice they spoke with and Molly realized that she was stupidly just standing and staring at him all the while holding that damn heavy bowl that threatened to drop the longer she just stood there. She needed to move. Forcing herself, she spun around, setting the wash bowl down, and moving on to empty the pot into the necessary bucket. When she returned Sherlock spoke to her once more. "You said you helped your Father shave, And we're you any good at giving him a shave?" 

Molly had moved on to the emptying of the chamber pot. Not glancing to, him she answered. "Yes. I am. I mean I was. Not... that my father ever complained."

"Well no, he wouldn't have though would he? It's clear that he valued and spoiled you. He'd have lied to you, complimenting and assuring you even if you were atrocious." Sherlock reasoned, as if she were thick headed.

Molly couldn't help it. She felt her temper begin to heat rapidly. It didn't matter what the man looked like, to say that... It was rude! And then before she knew it, her mouth opened without her mind’s full consent. "Would you like me to shave you to see for yourself, or would you rather call my late father a liar again, sir?" Molly challenged. And that man, oh he merely kept smiling at her his eyes sparkling in amusement. The cheeky man! 

"Yes." 

It was a long, charged moment before Molly remembered how to use her voice again, unsure though it was. "You wish for me to shave you sir?" He wanted her to do so now. Right now. Her job was supposed to be cleaning the bed chambers, not acting valet, and with him utterly unclothed. Her wits returned to her. "I can't. I'd need to ask my.. Um... that is to say...Mrs Hudson if I... I mean if that is an allowable-"

"Oh, stop the stuttering. I say it is allowable, now may we get on with it? Unless you have been telling me false tales and thus you can leave this house immediately," Sherlock threatened. 

Molly glared at him. He was trying to trap her; to make her give him reason to terminate her. Well, he'd just have to learn that she was capable of working and worthy of working here. "Sit then, sir." She motioned to the chair sitting adjacent to the wash stand. To her absolute gall he then (finally!) reached into his wardrobe and pulled out a beautiful purple velvet dressing gown, wrapping it around himself, securing the tie with a bit of a flourish. 

"Wouldn't want to have you distracted." He winked as he sat into the chair. 

"It takes more than mere nudity to distract me Mr. Holmes." Molly chirped before she could stop herself. She snapped her eyes closed and said a silent, ‘damn it’ before it occurred to her what she had actually said. Then fear flashed over her then as she worried he'd punish her for her own cheekiness. To her absolute surprise however, he instead let out a low, almost private chuckle. 

"What would it take to distract you then I wonder, Molly?" Sherlock said his voice going low, intimate almost, as his eyes closing as he relaxed himself back into his chair. Thankfully Molly was able to turn her face and bite her tongue against the answer that immediately came to mind. Try me and see.

Molly wet a small towel in the warm water she'd carried in earlier and wrapped it around Sherlocks face, taking care that he could breath. Next, she placed the puck of soap into the ornate mug he had to make lather in. 

"It was a gift,” he said reading her thoughts and unasked question. "A thank you for solving a case." He said, making her jump. His eyes were still covered to the towel- how had he known? "It's obvious you stopped to look at it closer. It’s an elementary deduction. Now, could you continue on? I don't relish spending all day like this."

"Right, sir." She poured in a large amount of water. "I apologize that I didn't have a chance to properly warm the brush. It's moderately soft however." He made no reply. Obvious. She heard in her head in his condescending voice. The brush was after all of the highest quality she'd ever seen or touched. She whipped the brush around and around, this direction and that, creating the desired lather. Once that was set, she looked at the straight razor to see how sharp it was. Dull of course, she tusked in irritation. 

"My equipment not up to your standards?" He queried. 

"Any knife can become dull if it is properly cared for," She answered as she found the leather strap to sharpen the blade. Pulling it out, she whipped it back and forth till it was sharp enough to split a hair. "There. Easily remedied." She pulled off the wet towel, and set it on the edge of the bowl. "Are we set to begin?"

"You tell me," Eyes still closed, he sat still; relaxed. 

My God, he was a brat! Molly brought the lather brush over to his face. "Let's get on with it before I'm late to my other duties." 

"Mmhmm. We can't have you falling behind on your work. That would certainly reflect badly on your performance." Sherlock threatened again, still determined to find fault in her and to rattle her, she supposed. He was not going to shake her though. This is right where she wanted- no needed to be. With her family. So respond she did not, instead she reached across him with one hand to pull the skin as flat as possible before letting the razor do its job. Once she got started the habit came back. In truth, it had never left. She'd been giving men a shave since she was a youth. It was the first thing her father allowed to her to help with in his work. Of course, those clients never complained if she slipped, and of course they never bled either. 

But her father had. About the fifth time she'd shaved him she got a bit rushed and careless and had nicked his skin. Oh how it had bled! He was fine, truly he had been, but Molly had felt so awful about hurting him that she'd cried the full hour after till he'd found her and soothed her. After that she'd learned to kept herself calm, slow and steady. Which was a good thing for this moment. 

Quietly she worked, contorting his skin this way and that to reach each spot of growth. She had been doing fairly well, forgetting her unease around him as she focused on her task. That was, until she reached his lip area. While pulling the top lip down, she'd gotten a small drip of lather on his lower lip. Rather than reaching for the towel she'd wiped the offensive spot with the pad of her thumb and felt him startle beneath her thumb. His eyes had flashed open bright and blue to see her, bending low and close over him. "Easy now, nearly done." Molly whispered, keeping her eyes locked on the white areas of his face.

She'd just about finished when she happened to feel his breath on her lips. Swiftly, she pulled back and spun back to the wash stand. Dampening the towel once more to wipe the soap remnants away. She chided herself for her careless actions and her foolish awareness of his closeness once more. When she turned once more back to him she found him looking at her oddly, as if perhaps she'd scared him. Moving forward slowly to wipe his face, she nearly anticipated him telling her to stop but he didn't. Hand carefully wrapped in the towel, she stroked the skin carefully, cleansing it fully. When she once more washed at his lip area, he reached up and grasped her wrist, making them both freeze, faces mere inches apart. She watched his eyes flicker to her lips. Surely he couldn't and wouldn't be considering what she thought he was! And yet... She couldn't help letting that hope flicker in her as her breath ceased at the thought. 

Before she did something rash, her senses returned to her, causing her her to pull away from him as much as much as she could. He swiftly followed her up and stood holding onto her wrist, making it feel tiny as a child’s own within his large hands grasps. Embarrassment filled her anew as she realized that he must be feeling her pulse thundering beneath her sleeve for the sound of it filled her ears and sounded like an oncoming parade in her head. The way he looked at her, almost as if he was affected by her nearness just as she was to him. 

Sherlock looked hard at her but stayed silent and still as he seemed to be analyzing her. Molly stayed frozen there within his grasp waiting for him to speak or to do something worse. Just then, Doctor Watson's voice sounded just outside the rooms door. "Sherlock, did you still want to come to luncheon with Stamford and myself?" And the good doctor appeared in the doorway, freezing when he saw the two standing together; Sherlock’s hand still wrapped tightly around Molly's wrist. "Ah... So um... What's going on in here?"

Dropping and flinging her hand away rapidly, Sherlock walked away from her, back to his wardrobe. "Luncheon... Yes. I have a few questions I'd like to ask Stamford. So yes. I shall join you." Doctor Watson looked back and forth between his friend and the maid, finding it odd that both were not saying a word about what they'd been doing before he’d walked in. For her part, the maid was carrying a damp rag and shaving equipment out of the room, leaving the men alone as Sherlock pulled various pieces of clothing he'd need for the day. Once she was finished, Molly pulled the chamber door shut leaving the two men inside before running away as fast as she could. 

After steps sounded down the hall, Watson exploded. "What the hell did I just walk in on, Holmes?" 

"Relax, John, I was simply giving the new maid a test. Nothing more." He walked to the wardrobe once more pulling out the desired suit of the day, slipping into his trousers and selecting a shirt. 

"That didn't look like just anything." His arms crossed as he tried to convey how 'not good' it had been. "That looked like a man about to plant a good one onto a woman he fancies."

"Must you be crude, Watson?” Sherlock pulled on a morning vest of a cornflower blue. "I simply called her to show me her shaving skills after her proclamation that she could perform the task, that is all." 

Eyebrow cocked, John showed he understood. "But if she was shaving you, just how do you go from sitting in a chair to standing so close over her, virtually holding the woman?"

"I was not holding." That experience felt entirely too pleasant his mind had recalled against his will and better judgment. "Testing her pulse, looking to see what reaction she gave to ME, John," He said as if that explained everything. 

"Uh-huh. And what did you do that she was affected by you?" 

"I only bade her to shave me, since the woman made some idle comment about how she used to shave her father. It was test. I needed a shave, so there the problem was solved,” Holmes thundered. "Perhaps you should try it. Lose the wet rat of a mustache you've been sporting all these months."

"Oh get off it! It's distinguished, and you know that the illustrator requested-"

"Yes a 'signature' look. It's thanks to that imbecile that I'm known as 'that detective chap with the silly hat,'"Sherlock whined. 

"So, Molly does shaves then?" Watson said rubbing at his cheeks. "That will a right useful skill we can use to our advantage, eh? Worth keeping the girl on just for that, I'd say. I'll get her to do mine in the morning, I think."

"You will not!" Sherlock spun and thundered at his friend, a stern look darkening his face. "Molly said that the extra work may interfere with her other duties. Seems she's having trouble enough as is in keeping up. Neither you nor I will be letting her shave us again. Am I clear?"

Watson tilted his head, unbothered by Sherlock’s proclamation. "Oh, so that's how it is then?" Sherlock didn't bother to answer, merely turned to look out his window once more. "I'll wait for you down stairs, my friend. Try not to think too long in that head of yours alright?"

Watson went off scratching his chin once more. Sherlock seemed determined to be rid of the girl. And if he knew one thing, it was that Sherlock Holmes nearly always got what he wanted. Letting out a heavy sigh he set off down the steps. He was going to miss that woman and her ginger biscuits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off thank you to by beta TheNewJefferson. Bless you my friend. Also to Writingwife83 for saying ‘do it’ when I had the deliciously naughty idea of the Sherlock challenging her so. Also thank you to Soyeahso for her insight too.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a guest review suggest that I up the rating to T after the nudity in last chapter, I had to agree because well, better safe than sorry. So I want to apologize if I caught anyone off guard. Thank you guest!

The pink of dawn was just appearing as Molly awoke and began to prepare for the day. She splashed cold water on her face as she washed up, letting the coolness sink into and awaken her weary dry skin. It did little to help with the bone deep exhaustion she felt, but it was a start. Her body was tired enough, that was true but her mind and her panicked thoughts of where she may go after she was dismissed left her lying awake more hours than resting.

Rubbing the skin dry she looked up at the light just beginning to fill the sky. Another day was dawning. A new day, another chance to show her abilities. Ten days had already passed since Holmes's initial decree of her trial period and Molly felt more and more each day that her departure from Baker Street was unavoidably immanent. Particularly, after the incident that occurred two mornings past. But till her time was finished she determined to worked hard, to do her best at all she did. Not that it pleased _him_ any more. No, everything was done the wrong way according to the so called Master of the house.

To Sherlock Holmes her every action was a nuisance. Dusting misplaced things, the laundry destroyed his so called 'potential evidence'. The meals she'd prepared were either bland or too salty for his taste, although the man ate with such irregularity as to make it nearly impossible to learn his tastes. Besides, she understood that the others found them perfectly sound and requested she keep cooking.

It also seemed that as much as she wished to stay out of Sherlock Holmes way, the more she would always find occasions several times a day when she felt his strange eyes would be watching her yet, he would never speak to her; nor look directly at her or acknowledged her directly nor had he since the after the shaving 'incident'. Those complaints he continued to have were never addressed to her directly, merely overheard or passed on, usually from Archie. Aunt was surely receiving them as well, but was refusing to pass them on Molly had no doubt. After all, what difference would it make? He wanted nothing to do with her. Nor was it proper that should. Particularly not after that moment while shaving him... pausing as a familiar thrill went over again. The way his crystalline eyes had looked after that brush on his velvety lip (why, oh why could she not forget those details! Were that she could. Instead she'd attempted to banish them far far away from her thoughts) But she still had two days and Molly refused to not give it her all.

Bending down she bent to lace her work boots. It was time to face the day, after all.

Later that morning, Molly was tending to the fireplace in the sitting room as per her Aunt's instructions, when she found an unexpected surprise in the coal bin. She stood up, apron covered in ashes and coal dust as she lifted one of the mysterious lumps that had fallen out between her fingers, not sure what she was looking at. All of the objects were a half of a dozen sticks all the same length. Curious. Using the edge of her cloth she wiped at it, discovering it was a cigar. A finely made one at that. Ruined now by the coal dust. Oh Bother!

"That would be his newest cigar hiding spot." Came a voice from behind her.

"Ah!" She startled, dropping the cigar and it rolled, leaving a trail of ashes on the carpet. Blast it, she silently cursed. The voice behind her chuckled good naturedly. "You have to be prepared for the unexpected in this household, Molly."

"Yes sir. I didn't know... There was already coal before I began. But, I apologize for not having looked first. They are as good as ruined now." Lamented Molly, bending to collect them all now to be disposed.

"Yes, well that was a rubbish place to store them. Told Holmes as much too." He chuckled softly. "That's why I refilled the bin with extra ash myself. He doesn't need them, he's quit the substance. Again. No real harm done." The man grinned cheekily and gave her a conspiratorial wink.

"Ah. Well then." Molly stiffened at the gesture, the loss of the cigars would surely after all be blamed on her and not the good Doctor. "Is there anything I can get for you, Doctor Watson?" Molly spoke a bit more bristly than she meant as she stood, wiping her hands on her apron, leaving it extra sooty. Double blast!

"No, no thank you. I just popped in looking for my book that I left in here last night." Molly nodded, turned her attention back to the mess on the floor behind her he strode over to what seemed to be thought of as 'his' chair and picked up the volume before sitting down and pretending to read. Molly knew that he was in fact only there to study her. A fact confirmed when he spoke a moment later. "And just how are you this fine morning, Molly?" Doctor Watson asked, flipping a page.

"Well enough, sir." Molly answered, tensing but not looking back at him as she dusted up the coal from the rug.

"I've been meaning to tell you that I am still quite impressed with the work you've done here over the past weeks. You do show yourself to be a hard working, useful sort of maid. I will be happy to write you a reference when..."

"When I am dismissed," Molly finished quickly, sitting back on her heels to look at him."Is it really that doubtful that I'll be asked to stay on, sir?"

He smiled a small sad half smile at her. One that Molly imagined he used in his patients when he had to deliver less than good news to patients. "I wish I could give you some hope, but I'm afraid he is a very determined man. Unless you have some rare, uncommon, hidden skill as a maid that we have never seen before, something tremendously, tremendously useful?" Molly shook her head in the negative, "I thought not. Well than in that case, I'd advise you to prepare yourself to seek another position." The doctor was certainly well practiced at delivering bad news. His tone was kind, but couldn't change the fact that news was still bitter none the less. "But surely you have some knowledge? A trade or skill, the shaving was one thing, perhaps you have something else?Anything? Something he might find even remotely useful to him? Perhaps then we-"

"Nothing. Nothing out of the...normal." She lied. The good doctor studied her as if he sensed that she had lied before he stood again to go.

"Well like I said, I wouldn't worry too much about your future, Molly. You are a hard worker and have an admirable work ethic. And I myself will give you a glowing letter of recommendation." He patted her shoulder, typical medical comforting. "Well I'm off to loan this volume to a friend. I'll be home for supper, should anyone call in looking for me."

He slipped back out and Molly looked at the mess of her apron and floor. What a mess. All of it. An utter mess. It was soiled now, much like her hopes. Sighing, she set to finishing her task before taking the used ashes down to empty them and carry up more coal.

When she returned to the lounge she found the adjoining study was now occupied by the one person she'd rather not see at that, or any moment. Mr Sherlock Holmes, finely outfitted in a dark brown morning suit, rifling through piles of papers on his desk; murmuring and groaning to himself.

As much as she wished to slip unnoticed out of the room, Molly girded herself and set to do what her position required of her. "Is there anything I can help you with, Mr. Holmes?"

The bent over man virtually snarled out a curt "no" before he began throwing books over his shoulder with absolutely no regard for where they landed as was evident when he hit the vase on the shelf with one particularly heavy volume, shattering it instantly. Holmes gave not even a slight sign of even having heard it. Molly however cried out softly, rushing to it to see if it might be repairable.

"For god's sake, leave it will you! It matters not to me, you silly, stupid woman!" He thundered to her. "Can not a man do what he wishes in the privacy of his own home? Must I be beset by ignorant fools who know no better than to worry about meaningless things!" His disgust was obvious and Molly suddenly remembered that her position was as good as terminated and thus she decided that enough was enough.

"Then tell me what it is you are looking for!" She steadied her voice as much as she could and demanded him, keeping her anger focused and controlled.

His back was turned to her, but he spun to look over his shoulder a cold smile manipulating his face even as his cold eyes narrowed in on her making her the sole target of his ire. "Oh, so you know my possessions so well do you? Have you been studying them? Is it theft on your mind or are you hoping to get in my good graces by being 'present' and 'helpful', hmm? Not that those qualities will secure you a position, but yes then, let us give it a try shall we?"

Sherlock forcibly slid a larger amount of belongings covering his tabletop crashing to the floor off the desk before settling a large, cloth wrapped bundle on it that has been sitting on the floor beside it. Molly watched amazed as he began unwrapping the dirty, stained cloth to reveal a large, no beyond large it was a "Is that a...a rat?" Molly was positive that it was too large to be simply a rat. In fact, she was almost thinking it may well be a small dog or a cat but there was no mistaking the beasts features.

Sherlock Holmes, eccentric that he was had brought a very large very dead rat into Baker Street and set it right on the center of his work table not ten feet from where he greeted genteel clients on a regular basis. He gave her a look that gave her the impression of an unspoken obviously to answer her."But... What are you doing with that in here?"

"I need to open his stomach and examine the contents of his stomach. I found him under a buffet in the room where a magistrate from Sumatra Road who has dropped dead quiet unexpectedly. I'm thinking poison is a factor. Clearly both the magistrate and rat were eating quite well together so what killed the one is likely to be what killed the other."

"But you're examining it in...here?" Molly marveled. In the middle of his private study?!

"And just where else would you have me do it then? In the kitchens beside the chicken being plucked for our dinner? In a bedchamber perhaps? Where the beast can bleed and it's blood stain the pillow?

"No, the study, I felt, as Master of the house was the best suited to work of an experimental nature. Do you not agree, Molly?" Sherlock challenged.

"Oh! No, no sir. It just-"

"Questioning me, Molly," he clucked his tongue. "Never do that to whomever your new Master will soon be. " Well that was an unneeded dig! "At least I planned to do so. However, since I can't find my blasted Haupenter there's not a Damn thing I can do with him to see what food the killer used." He groused. "Although Molly, have you seen John's medical bag? I'll use one of his scalpels since mine has been lost in this great hullabaloo..." When no answer came to him he spun around to find the room empty of the pesky maid. Well then, good riddance if she ran from his tempers she truly deserved to be gone sooner rather than later. He gave an unconcerned sigh and resumed his search.

It was only a moment later that he sounds of small feet stomping into the room announced Molly's return. She stomped over towards him till she came to a stop beside him with her hand out. "Your scalpel sir. It was in your dressing gown pocket. Right where you left it. " Sherlock turned on instinct and reached out to accept the handle of the knife That's when he stopped.

Beside him Molly was frozen still into place. This shouldn't have happened. Both of them just stood there until he breathed out an uncertain thank you. Molly released the blade and strode back across the room, seeking to resume her placing the coal in the bin Her cheeks burned with embarrassment and was glad to have a reason to turn away from him. How could she have acted so foolishly?

Touching his things was beyond presumptuous for one and certainly gave cause for her to be dismissed by the end of the day surely. Tears threatened as she wondered where she might go... Her savings were nowhere near adequate to afford a room of her own at a boarding house and she'd had no references to pursue a new position. Even Doctor Watson's promised letter would do her little good if she was sent away before he returned.

From behind her she felt him study her but he said nothing. No praise, but no censure thankfully either. Oh stupid, stupid woman! Why had she done that? Once the coal was stored she stood to stand and leave. It was then that his hand clamped on her elbow, stopping her escape. How has he made it across the room so silently without her notice!

"You handed me my knife." The voice was deep, low and incredibly warm close to her ear. A low rumble that felt loud as thunder as it swept through her. This man was dangerous. Dangerous as lightning in a storm. The thought flashed over her, warnings of men with dark intentions and purposes that would use her cruelly. He certainly handsome enough to seduce her with his fascinating eyes and his long lean strength. And still there was another darker quality to him. He exuded something exotic and tempting. Something that called to her: Adventure and a life less than ordinary.

" I..."

"You not just handed to me. No, no you handed it to me in the proper fashion as one would in a surgery theatre." He reasoned spinning her to where he could look at her fully looking her over. "Have you experience in a surgery?" His eyes were bright with... Hope? Amusement?

"No sir. I have not." Molly held her breath and tried to pull herself away but he only held tighter as he moved his hands to place her bucket down once more and then lifted her hands up in turn to inspect them.

Brows lifted he considered her "No, you say?" He twisted on hand round to examine it closer. "Yet you knew my scalpel from merely the name of its maker. It's German maker. Handed it to me in a way that more than suggests that you have a familiarity with one yourself."

"All knives are to be handed thus sir, that's just common sense. I only-" Molly reasoned fear pounding in her veins.

"Now Molly, are you attempting to lie to me? You do know just whom you are lying to; how trivial the entirety of that whole endeavor is. Do you think yourself capable of keeping anything from me when I need only see your history from one look at the small scars here on your hands? See the left hand, index finger? Note the multiple lacerations to the top of the finger?

"They prove that you have used one yourself, you need not bore me with a denial." Looking back into her panicked eyes he leant in slightly while easing her hands back down but not yet releasing her. "But you weren't telling me a lie when you said it was not a surgery that you have learned such familiarity. A doctor's practice perhaps?"

"No!" Pulling her hand as much as she could, but with very little success Molly felt tears fill her eyes. He was showing far too much interest in her when she only wished to be invisible. Oh how could she have been so idiotic! Why could she have not played dumb and let him just do as he pleased? If the truth came out then she wouldn't even have Doctor Watson's good reference to recommend herself even if he showed up before she was banished.

Sherlock's corner of his mouth lifted as he studied every inch of he once more. "Again, not a lie! So little Miss Molly, where did you gain that skill?"

"Sir, it is nothing. Please may I go the kitchen. It is past time I got to preparing luncheon-"

"Oh no. You will be staying here until I am satisfied with the answers to my questions about you. So tell me where did you come from? And just what did you say was your surname Molly?" I didn't she thought, staying silent.

"I'm making you uncomfortable. Sit." He let her hands drop and went to sit himself in his leather chair in the adjoining room casually placing one one ankle up to his opposite knee. He motioned to Doctor Watson's choice chair before he used one hand to brace his face as he watched her sharply, irritation growing as she remained standing.

"I couldn't do that sir, I'm covered with ash!"

"Sit. "He commanded again, his tone growing ever darker once more. Molly obeyed, staying as far on the edge as she could. She wasn't comfortable, but then nothing about this interview would make her thus. "Molly, you know who I am, and you know the way I work. I deduce people. And do you know what I see when I look at you, hmm?

"I look at you and I see a woman who has been reduced in life yes, but not in the usual way. I see a woman who has been brought low by choice.

"Those scars on your hands, they tell of someone who has been working long and hard with her hands but not cooking or other more traditional woman's work. Those cuts are in different places. More cuts reduced mainly to the tips where yours are more on the spans between as if bracing something open. Then there are those from the burns. They themselves speak of work with chemicals rather than heat or flame.

"Clearly this is a skill you have had for many years; from childhood, in fact. Your father, you assisted him for several years after you lost your mother. Learned more and more over time. But what was his exact profession hm? Not a surgeon nor a doctor, an apothecary perhaps?" He suggested, brows raising throughout his deduction and a cunning smile boosting of his pride. If Molly didn't know better of his disdain for her than she would be tempted to accuse him of showing off.

"No sir, please, I beg of you. That part of my life...it is in the past and I would very much like it to stay there."Molly pleaded, her eyes had begun leaking frustrated tears no matter how much she tried to keep herself composed. He saw it as weakness in her no doubt. His abhorrence for all emotion was a well known fact after all.

He also looked completely confused at her begging. "Why? You are looking to support yourself surely you could use the knowledge you have to gain employment as a nurse or some other situation where that you could use those skills. Why work instead be a simple, dull housemaid when you need not?"

"No, no I'm afraid I could not. Mr Holmes, I simply cannot allow my past to be any part of my future."

"Even if that past were able to secure you a place? Even here?" He asked slowly.

"A place...here?" Molly questioned. How could that part of her past lend her a secured position as a housemaid? Here or otherwise?

"I don't see why not. I've told you before, I need people who can be of assistance to me. Depending on your skills of course. But I do wish you would cease this entire being coy business." He reached over and began fiddling with the unorthodox Persian slipper there before shifting one brow up to look back across at her. The look made her lose her breath for reasons Molly herself was all together unsure of. "Unless there is a reason you are trying to hide who you are from me." He tilted his head back to fully look at her as he smiled wickedly. "Is there a reason you are trying to hide, Miss Hooper?"

Blanching Molly pulled in a breath. "You...know my last name?" If he knew her name what else then did he know?

"Oh yes, of course I do! You think you would have been able to stay so much as a night here in my home without my knowing exactly whom you are?" He accused as if he were somehow disappointed in her. "I am no fool after all."

Molly had no answer for that. He knew! Had known all along... oh of course he knew! She was the fool to think she'd hidden that part of her life from the likes of him. He was right. She was a silly, stupid girl! _No wonder he wants you gone before you ruin him like you ruined your father_. The negative voice returned. No! Sherlock had said something about wishing her to stay.

"Do you wish to tell me about your skill set now Miss Mary 'Molly' Louise Hooper? Daughter of Edward and Mary Hooper, formerly of Hooper's Mortuary Services." Sherlock began reciting her identity to her as sly as a fox, his eyes lit from within despite his schooled expression. "Just how involved were you in your father's business?"

Eyes closing, she answered honestly. "Extremely." Eyebrow raised he insisted she go on. "My mother past away along with my baby brother from a fever when I was eight years old. My father and I, we both got it too, and while he and I survived it left him weakened. I began doing all the housework from then on."

"And your work in the mortuary?"

"My father's weakness stayed with him and he never could recover his full strength. Soon I was with him in the Mortuary too, helping in any way I could. Undressing bodies, washing them, shaving and brushing out hair and redressing them to prepare them for their coffins.

"As time went on, I continued to assist my father when he grew weaker, embalming the bodies when he could not."

"Fascinating work I'm sure." Sherlock murmured. That made her look at him for the first time since she began to talk.

"It was." Molly found it freeing to admit that. So much so that her words began flowing out with little thought before she utters them. "Most clients were mundane, but sometimes, sometimes we had such... fascinating ones! My father taught me anatomy and how you could know how you could determine how someone died by their fingernails or the odor that lingers on the breath after death." Molly watched as the man across from her seemed keen to ask her a question but refrained motioning her to go on. "His health never did really improved. Sometimes were better than others but it seemed every small cold weakened his constitution a bit more. He relied on me quite heavily."

"And he was satisfied with your work?"

"I got to be better than him." When allowed a ghost of a smile at the thought of her father proudly smiling at her. "If I had been a son my father would have sent me to become a physician."

"There are schools that teach females. Did you apply to them?"

"No," the smiles fled, "my father felt that I would be better off if I were to marry and have the security and family that a marriage would grant. His greatest wish was that I not be alone in the world, sir." She looked toward the door, thinking of her family here.

"But you have not married. Why is that? I imagine he did everything in his power to secure a future for you."

"He tried too, yes. And I was engaged, for a period of time... but the man he proved to not be the sort I'd choose to be joined in matrimony with. Father agreed. " There was more to it than that, but Molly desperately wished not to get into that.

"There are worse things, I suppose than being a spinster after all. Being married to an undesirable, cruel mate being chief among them." Holmes conceded, his brows raising as his eyes seemed to focus on an inner thought. "But, financially; why did he not have some resources set aside to provide for you?"

"He did. I mean there were sir, but once my father grew sicker, I'm afraid the money, it went very fast."

"Ah, I see." Sherlock looked toward the fireplace for a moment. "You lost it then. Your financial security; Did you spend it all on some fraudulent cure all some charlatan was selling?"

"No sir, I am not so foolish. At least when it comes to those reprobates, hawking their poisons as miracle elixirs. I've met with many of the people who've turned to those tonics to regroup hair or find eternal youth. I'd never subject anyone to their evils." She paused, fortifying herself to explain further. "But you see, the man I was to marry, he... That is, perhaps I should start with him being... you see he was once my father's apprentice." Molly cast her eyes down, bunching her apron up in her fist. "And as my father grew weaker we left him more and more in charge while I would attended my father. And he... We discovered that he had been... You have to understand, we thought he was a good man, the son of my father's friend. We never suspected that he would do that to our clients."

A number of vile imagining as to what foul deed her former intended performed on the corpses must have flashed through his mind, torrid imaginings and an obvious curiosity to hear more. Molly continued her story unprompted. "It was the kidneys that gave it away. I found a whole parcel of them, a half dozen wrapped and stashed away in the corner of one of the cooling chambers we rarely used.

"In another parcel I found three hearts." She whispered. "I confronted him, and he didn't bother to deny it. A professor from the medical college was paying him quite well for those bits he managed to steal. He found nothing wrong with stealing, justifying it for the 'greater good' and I must be honest sir, I agreed. What good does it do to take them I the grave when others might use them to learn? To save a life?

"On the other hand, those belonged to our clients. People whose families entrusted and paid for their loved ones to us to be retired safe, respectfully and...whole. My conscience, for a time I'll admit was conflicted." Braving a look at Mr. Holmes she found him considering her, not as some monster but merely curious it seemed.

"I find I am in agreeance with you, Miss. Hooper." A corner of a smile lifted his lips. "Science requires samples to test on and demonstrate with. And to see them rotting away is a pointless waste." Molly nodded gently, looking unsure for moment, a gentle smile once more teasing at her lips. "But it wasn't only the body parts, was it?"

"No. No, it was not." Sighing sadly again before she continued on. "We demanded he cease the sales, and he agrees. And for a while I thought he had. Soon after though the Bobby's were coming around asking about former clients. Clients who it seemed were being stolen."

"Body snatching?" His interest acute.

Molly nodded. "Along with grave robbing of some of the past clients. All leading back to clients of Hooper's Mortuary. That was when we dismissed him. Both as my fiancé and as my father's apprentice. The damage was done however, Word spread and our once good reputation was forever tarnished.

"That when the real trouble began."

"What sort of trouble?"

"We had a break in, and a client's personal items, including an heirloom ring of a clients were stolen from the safe where we lock everything up. None of my father's or my own belongings were taken, even though they had the potential to fetch a far greater value than that ring. A further blight to our name.

"Then there were demands, threats, letter and vandalism to the building front. All claiming we would pay for the wrongs we'd done. As you can imagine, that caused even our dearest families faith to be shaken.

"The blackmail plus added costs of repairs and loss of income combined, plus the expenses you incurred due to your father's failing health. Your nest egg would have vanished within months." Several hundred pounds in as many months, she thought regretfully.

Sherlock considered her, his eyes dragging their way over slowly, Molly watched his hand fist before he asked the next question. "What about more intimately? You are a fairly attractive woman, did he also take advantage of you?"

Conflicting flushes of embarrassment raised her color. "No. He made one crude threat, there at the end but... mercifully never acted out in the threat of physical violence or... rape." She finished with a whisper. Inside her head she again heard his words ' _you disgust me, Molly. The smell of death and decay wafts off you and turns my stomach. You vile excuse of a woman. How could a man desire a woman who finds happiness in being with the dead. Retched, horrible rotten excuse of a woman-_  
  
"Small mercies, that." Sherlock nodded once and relaxed his own hand, standing and walking from his chair to look into the empty grate, Molly found her eyes still watching his hands as one reached to hold the other. His demeanor was so calm and elegant she decided, the perfect image of a gentleman. So at odds I the man she first came across mere minutes ago in the midsts of his tantrum that destroyed the vase and the the papers on his desk. Sherlock Holmes was mercurial and fierce. Fear inducing and awe-inspiring all in one breath.

From his standing position, Sherlock stood watching the problematic maid surreptitiously from the mirror. She was easily as distressed as many of his clients who'd sat in her same spot had been, and refreshingly honest with him, neither over-sharing mundane, pointless information or omitting crucial pieces to insure her own modesty. "Your former beloved, where is he now?"

Attention turning to the back of his head, the woman bristled up once more sitting straight and strong. "I never referred to him by any sort of endearment, and I would beg you to please never to say that he was again. He was my intended, but never, never anyone beloved by me."

Her fiery answer soothed him, for reasons he didn't wish to delve into, and though he still faced away from her and she could not see he found a smile break through his schooled features. "Understood, my most sincere apologies."

"He is currently incarcerated. He and some fellows were caught disturbing a grave. It seems my father and I were not his only source of contraband bodies in the end. A coffin supplier of ours was also arrested."

"I see. So this fellow ruined your business, discredited you but was ultimately apprehended, and yet you choose not to seek a position at another mortuary institution?"

"There was not enough evidence to prove that he was the vandal or the thief and I had not the funds to secure a barrister to pursue the matter further, much as I wished too. As for seeking a position at another mortuary, who would hire me? The work is largely considered unsuitable to a woman. Particularly one who has been accused of mistreating the dead."

"Poppycock!" He snapped, spinning from the mirror. "You were never officially accused correct?" She shook her head no, although it had been close. Had the detective inspector not known her all her life... She surely would be in prison herself. "I find it unfortunate to hear that. You have the knowledge, the skills; what matter should a Person's sex have?"

"That is a very... generous thinking of you. Would that others would share that opinion with you. In fact, you sir are the first I have met that believe that."

"That woman are actual persons in possession of functional mental faculties? Indeed it is a rare opinion. The modern man is little more than a glorified ape and his thinking has evolved little past the understanding that he must and give himself shelter and to answer his urges of feeding, protecting and mating in a generally accepted way. The fact that he still can not manage to do those well is the reason I am able support myself as a consulting detective."

"You do not think highly of your sex."

"I am not inclined, to generally think well of anyone, Molly. Male or female."

"Oh, and here I thought I was the singular recipient of your displeasure." Molly murmured blushing again. She'd nearly forgotten his past disdain, after conversing with him.

"It's not that I dislike you, Miss. Hooper. It is simply that you do not belong here. You are wasted spending your days mopping floors and baking bread." He sat back down. "I spoke with a certain Detective Inspector, the man raved about the assistance that he received from your family's business. Said that you were the finest assistant he had ever come across in his career. Spoke of how you would be able to give him useful information even after the ignorant backwards excuse of morgue assistant had finished with the body. He misses your work greatly." Tilting his head he nodded to her. "Gregson went so far as to say you were his number one key to solving murders, that was until he met me, it goes without saying." Sherlock placed his fingers together below his chin. "Which leads me to wonder..."

"To wonder what, sir?"

"What might we be able to accomplish" he let a pause hang heavy his eyes captivating her attention fully, "together?"

Desire. It's heady effects were addling her brain no doubt, but that look that he wore made her fear she heard him incorrectly. He couldn't truly be... Well she honestly wasn't sure what he was suggesting. "I'm sorry, but...what?"

"Your knowledge, the things you can show to me. You could save us time, give me the needed information to apprehend the killer all the sooner. Don't you see?"

Oh. Right. "Yes... I suppose I do." Of course. Ever a silly fool to even think that he would...

"Would you be interested? Do you harbor any reservations against performing the work itself, particular when murder has occurred? Or is it simply that you have decided that your chances of having a position and a future would increase if your association with the deceased were unknown?"

"Mr Holmes, I- well I no I am rather comfortable with a body. Not all that I met have been freshly deceased. I am not bothered by any of the physicality. But I don't really know quite what to say in answer. You say you wish to collaborate with me, but I can not see how such a thing could even be possible."

"Leave the details to be, but believe me when I say that if you are even half as good as Gregson says than you'd be an asset to me. I shall make it possible. After all, people know me any my eccentricity I'm sure in time they'll accept it. You would be under my personal protection."He watched her waver, longing to say yes, but her instinct to protect herself making her begin to say yes. An answer he refuses to accept.

"Damn it to Hell, woman! I am offering you a chance! I shall not repeat my offer to you after today. So would you be willing to give me your insight on troubling cases or not?"

After a stunned moment Molly nodded, afraid of her own voices stability.

"Then it is settled."

"But sir, as much as I wish to accept I can not. My debts from my father will soon paid but till then I have nothing. Where I to leave I'd fear I would have nowhere to go that would allow me to board. My name and credit are not at all advantageous to finding a place. I did mean it when I said that I have a ... need to be with my family." It shamed her to admit her financial position, but she had to make him see. At least working as a domestic servant she had a roof over her head and would be fed while she paid the last of her creditors and doctors their due.

"Go? And just why should you be going anywhere?" Sherlock questioned, his face pulled into confusion.

"Then, you mean... I can stay? Here?" Molly clarified.

"Molly- Ms. Hooper. This is, I remind you, your Aunt' home. I can not therefore make you leave unless she wishes it." Much as a I wish you would his mind flashed, working with her and living under the same roof were two completely different things. "But I do recall saying I would not be paying you unless you proved yourself useful to me. With your unique skills you absolutely could be.

"So yes. Stay here." He paused and thought. "That way I should have use of you whenever the need strikes."

Molly knew he meant his statement practically but an untoward association still made her chastise herself for the thrill that ran through her. Here a man was telling her that he wanted her but rather than a torrid romantic novel 'I-must-have-you-or-I-shall-perish-with-want' manner, it was to work with her. Her! And all due up her experiences with the dead that she long feared she'd be mocked and shamed for.

_Because no real man would want you, he only wants your knowledge from you, nothing more. He does not see you as a woman at all. Merely a tool to use to learn from. That's all you are to him. A way to learn something. You are as good as a book. No one finds a book desirable. You are just a means to an end.  
_

No! St _op that girl. Stop it at once! It doesn't matter what he thinks of you in that manner Molly- girl. He is giving you what you deserve. A chance and respectful for that brilliant mind of yours_. Her father past reminders of her worth filled her. This was a chance, a chance that very well would never happen again.

"So? Will you assist me?" Sherlock Holmes spoke, drawing her out of her own head.

"If I may stay then yes. I accept." _Gladly_! Her heart sang.

"Wonderful!" He stood up and offered her a hand. Molly hesitantly allowed him to pull her to standing right in front of him smiling gently up at him. For the first time since her first night at Baker Street she could relax and not fear her imminent departure. The smile of triumph that Sherlock Holmes answered her own made her heart thunder in a way that she knew wasn't in only from relief. She would still have to be careful around him. One false step and he would have her heart. "Now what say you to looking through our little friends stomach?"

Molly's eyes lit in anticipation and she giggled happily as he pulled her back to the study, anxious as a child to play with a new toy, dropping her hand only when reaching for his knife. Moving to make his first cut into the rat she suddenly reached over to stop him. "No sir, wait!"

"Please do not tell me you have had a change of heart." He growled as he watched her turn out of the room, then hearing her steady footprints thundering down the steps.

"Molly!" Sherlock thundered out. Wondering what he should be doing, should he follow? There was no way he was going to press her more than he had. He'd not meant to offer her any position least of all to let her stay at all! But the look in her deep eyes as she admitted her most guarded secrets of debt and discrediting had left him feeling protective of the woman. She had been wronged, and he wished to make it right somehow. To ease the heavy lode she had carried. Charity was one thing...But then there was that smile as she stood, the way her hand had felt clinging to his own for security, eyes alit with relief and near joy... He must have been still, lost in his thoughts for suddenly there she was coming back through the door.

"If you really insist on cutting the beast in here we should use a waxed cloth. It will make cleaning up after all the easier. Ah, and these..." She said handing him a pair of his gloves from near his chemistry set, before reaching into her apron pocket before wiggling her hand while her into a pair of soft sueded leather gloves of her own, he watched the way her nose scrunched up in concentration as she did so "never hurts to be careful when poison is suspect. Lest we become the third and fourth victims. Then you'd have an unintentional serial murderer to catch. Although of you were also a victim that me a wee bit tricky!" She giggled. Charmingly.

Too charming. Too distracting. He would have to be careful. To keep her at arm's length at all times.

Looking down he tugged on his own pair on. Before bending down making the first incision into the rat, he murmured, "don't tell jokes, Molly."

"Very well sir." She answered back lowly, as she leaned in, eyes locked in and watching the dissection.

"Humph." He huffed. So much for keeping her at arm's length.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes:  
> Yes, umeko-Sherlolly had a gorgeous drawing of Maid Molly lifting cigars out of the coal scuttle. How could I not write that into this story? The art inspires me. 
> 
> This monster chapter was unbetaed, because I love my Beta and she has much more pressing things to do rather than edit 15 pages for me. So i have labored over this chapter (which I wrote prior to chapter three) for at least six months. I hope you enjoyed it. As for moving forward I waited to outline the remaining plot till after TAB to see how much my general plot line could fit in with Canon plot... well needless to say this will stay an AU and will only borrow minimally from canon. I can only hope though that I can find more of opportunity to write more in the near future... but with young kids and a husband who works 90hrs a week my time of being able to write while I have functioning mental capacities is limited. But I will keep on giving it my best. 
> 
>  
> 
> Best wishes!
> 
> Mistykins


	5. Chapter 5

Pytm 5

"Shame on you, Sherlock Holmes. For shame!" The woman's scorn raced ahead of her as she entered the lounge where the two men of the house sat chatting about their day over pipes in the glow of the hearth. 

"What have you done now, Holmes?" Doctor John Watson asked with only a mild curiosity. After all this sort of allegation was generally given monthly, if not weekly by their housekeeper. 

"Blast if I know." The man in question answered drawing in on his pipe. "Yes, Mrs. Hudson? What is it now?"

"The gall of you, you... You filthy cad! How dare you treat my sweet, innocent niece in such a foul manner. I never would have invited her to come into my home (yes, MY home Mr Holmes, that I'll have you kindly remember) if I had so much as thought for a single moment that you would be taking advantage of her!"

"Taking advantage! Surely you don't think he of all men-" Watson denied.

"Oh yes I most certainly do!" The older woman verily roared. "She told me herself that she was no longer to be employed as a housemaid but to be kept on for his...personal convenience!” Mrs Hudson moaned in anguish. “ As if my Molly were some mere trollop!"Watson shifted his eyes to Holmes and noted that the man sat calmly puffing his pipe. "Holmes, what in heaven's name is the woman going on about?"

"Oh I'll tell you doctor, that poor excuse of a gentleman has made an untoward arrangement with my niece using some flowery language and promises in order to have her 'work' with him. And the fool girl bought into his charade and agreed to his proposal. Now she is to stay here and be his kept woman.” Rounding back on Sherlock she ranted again,” I am beyond disappointed in you sir and do be aware that I intend to write a strongly worded letter to your mother on this matter in my next correspondence."

Holmes merely nodded his head. "Oh good. Do send her my love and regards and Fathers health. That will save me the bother of sending a missive myself. Now do tell me, Mrs. Hudson, just where is your charming niece now?"

"You unbearable cad! Have you no shame?" The woman cried. 

"Where is she, Mrs Hudson?" Sherlock demanded, his tone showing his irritation. 

"She is down in her room. And you, sir, are not to be around her. If I catch you creeping down those stairs then I'll hit you in the head with a frying pan, so help me God I will!" 

Heedless of her threats, Sherlock stood and spun out of the room and marched down through the house till he reached the corridor where Molly, (no not 'Molly' that was far too familiar for their new level of association) Miss Hooper's room was. With a heavy knock he loudly called out. "Miss Hooper, if you are not otherwise engaged would you be so kind as to join us in the lounge, swiftly if you please." 

"Yes... Yes sir. I'll follow up in a moment."

"Do hurry." He charged before returning just as heavy footed up the two flights of stairs once more and back into the lounge where he stood to await M- Miss Hooper. 

"You unbearable miscreant. Look at you marching down to her chamber just as brazen as can be." Mrs Hudson continued to rant at him as Watson did his best to calm the older woman down with little success. He kept eyeing Holmes with his ever constant irritated look, silently imploring him to appease the woman. Sherlock also noted the look held with it a hint of something that wavered between approval and strong disappointment. A look Sherlock answered back with a face that he usually gave when people said idiotic things to him then he went to the window to await Miss Hooper.Soon her familiar cadence on the stairs sounded and found himself curious to see how she would be attired. Her feet were bare he knew from her treading on the steps but he couldn't help but hope that her hair would be down again. "You wanted to see me?"

Spinning he answered before the other occupants could speak, "yes. Do please join us if you will." Sherlock motioned her to his large leather chair taking in the worry in her eyes. She must have been anticipating this late night meeting for she had yet to change from what she had worn all day. The only alteration to her appearance from earlier in the day was a freshly washed face and her forgoing the usual apron and maid's cap. While it wasn’t as lovely as her hair worn down, the omissions went far to make her look more a lady that she was and not the housemaid who she had been the last time she entered the room. In fact she looked taller, more confident and Sherlock took peace in thinking that she looked more as if she belonged there. 

Watson, fool that he was took in the alterations as well but in his usual form hastily jumped to the wrong conclusion entirely based on the changes. "Holmes, what have you done!" The doctor thundered.

Molly looked curiously at each person, seeking to find just what she was needed for. "Is there something going on that I should be aware of?"

"Miss Hooper, I'm afraid your aunt has objections to the understanding we have reached between us this morning. She is under the impression that I have, please excuse my indelicate speech, but your aunt believes that you have succumbed to my rather brilliant ploy to seduce you and you now are to be residing here as a kept woman to be used quite wrongly. Thus, she is adamant that such a relationship not take under her roof and certainly not with her own blood.”

Watson murmured a prayer for sanity and Molly- Miss Hooper sputtered out an entirely undignified, "what?"

Sherlock continued on. "Therefore, if you'd be so kind as to go pack your things your aunt will show you out this very moment. I shan't soil you further by kissing your hand good bye, but rather I shall simply say good evening." He remained faced away the entire time he spoke, but he was oh so curious to see his new associates reaction and allowed himself to round to observe the fallout. 

Mrs Hudson looked chastised, embarrassed and was babbling incoherently at her niece who wore such a look of scorn and worry as she sat waiting for the woman's answer to make it out. Watson looked between the women as if viewing a tennis match of great interest. When she determined that her aunt had no ability to answer, Molly finally spoke low and hard. "Aunt, what have you done? Did I not explain in full to you the nature of what Mr. Holmes proposed of me? And did I not answer him myself?"

"But Molly, child...."

"No! Do not Molly-child me! I am an adult and I am fully capable of making this choice."

"But you will be ruined!" Her Aunt cried out. 

"What does it matter? I am already ruined, aren't I?" Molly laughed bitterly, an emotion the men were curious to behold. "I've already lost everything I have ever cared for; my father, the business our home…I am ruined."

"My dear, please. You do not seem to understand. What he says he is offering to you, the chance to work on the dead at crime scenes... it is not possible. Young woman like you will never be able to traipse about going hither and thither all because somebody has died in a curious manner. It's simply not done! And you have a reputation to think of! How does it look you being at the man's beck and call! I can not sit here and allow Sherlock Holmes to ruin you just because he says has a 'use' for you. A use! What about when you are no longer of 'use 'my dear? What then, I pray?

"No respectable home will employ you then to be so much as a scullery maid, let alone a housemaid. Your character will forever be tarnished. This is your future I am thinking of and why I must put my foot down."

"Molly-, do forgive me, Miss Hooper was it?” Watson waited for her nod and then continued on. “You see, I am at a loss. What proposal has Mr. Holmes made to you? And what brought about this change? I was still under the understanding that you were to no longer be a housemaid here.”

"Doctor Watson, you'll recall our earlier conversation about whether I had any skills that Mr Holmes would find useful? Well, I wasn't entirely forthright with you. You see, I am skilled at understanding... Well in most cases, not all of course but in some ways, I can determine how a person has.... umm... Expired." The woman got her words out finally. It had taken her a great many facial expressions to do so, Holmes noted half surprised to himself. She would be an open book when, or rather if he could learn them all. 

"It's a secret then, something you don't wish the world to know that there are people like you who can interpret death itself! Are you some sort of witch then? An occultist?" Watson asked with squinted eyes. The man was determined to find some suspected evil in her it seemed. 

"Oh for God’s sake, Watson! The woman is obviously not an occultist! She's merely the daughter of a highly respected and quite popular mortician. Been around far more than dead bodies than either you or I, and she has extensive knowledge about them."

"A morticians daughter! But surely Holmes she was never involved in any real way. It is not something woman are good at Their sensibilities are far too weak for such horrors as the dead." Doctor Watson was then aware that Miss Hooper had turned her ire filled attention his way and he was feeling very much how much she disagreed with his presumption. "Although, I may be wrong." He finally garbled out. 

"Generally you'd be correct. Both women and men too often seem to find death to be too much for them. And yet Watson our Miss Hooper here is in fact, a singular woman whose capabilities far outshine all others I have found in the field. Simply put, she makes that imbecile Anderson at the morgue look like a child has been dabbling in watercolors and Miss Hooper a master painter by comparison." 

"But I asked her just this morning if she had any skills we were not aware of! She said no." John gapped. 

"That you were not aware of? True. I however have known just who she is and where she came from since her first night here. I knew her skills maybe helpful but I did not believed her to be willing to use and share her knowledge. No, indeed she seemed to put every effort into becoming the invisible housemaid good for nothing but dusting and housework. I honestly thought her to truly be trying to let go of her past... That is until she slipped up today." He glanced her way and gave her the hint of what he thought was an amused smile, but instead came out looking quite predatory that she didn't return as it made her feel a bit like a caged animal. "Handed me my hautespauter scalpel, Watson. Knew it just by its name! Oh the look on her face then when she knew she had been discovered! It is one on all my years that I shall never forget. She looked as if she's just discover commuting the most she egregious of sins and that all of damnation were to descend upon her at that moment!" At that moment he began to be aware that he had now become the newest subject of Molly's displeasure. Almost subconsciously he straitened both himself and his speech up. "And you mustn't hold her dishonesty with you against her. Self preservation you'll agree is a strong motivation and her actions as misguided as they were because she felt she'd be shunned for them. That her scandal would taint us. No doubt her aunt aided her in that erroneous decision. Thus her little act as a forgettable housemaid. Simply Molly. No dangerous last names when all your assumed to posses is a first moniker. It was her guise to hide from the scorn and ridicule she feared from her past."

Miss Hooper's anger was nearly tempered down by the rest of the speech, but not fully banked he knew. She held to much ire against the entirety of the room to expect that. Mrs. Hudson had reached across murmuring lowly for the 'dear child's' forgiveness, insisting she had only done what she thought was best for her. 

"So, to clarify Holmes you want the girl to assist you? In a professional, work capacity?" Watson asked, still seeking clarification.

"Us Doctor, to assist us. Never fear, I am not replacing you so do please calm yourself. Miss Hooper, I know will be quite useful in our future endeavors. Can't you see Watson, how much time she will save us by not having to do Anderson's job for him?"

"Yes. I'm sure that knowledge would be a great asset and yet..." Watson stood and walked closer to Sherlock. Speaking a whisper into his ear. "Holmes, what I can not see is how you propose to actually do anything of the like with the girl! Are you suggesting we simply stroll up to the scene of a horrendous crime with a lady on our arm and let the gents of the yard stand by as we let her tell us what has happened?"

"Quite simply: yes." Sherlock answered. 

"Oh Sherlock..." Mrs Hudson moaned. "The shame of it!"

"What shame?!" Holmes thundered out. 

"What do you suppose the reaction will be? What sensation you will cause with a woman awaiting you." The older man queried. "How will Miss Hooper be treated there? With respect and kindness? No mate, no. They'll not be agreeable to a woman doing a man's job, not at all. You surely must know this to be so. Have you considered the cost Miss Hooper would pay if you made her do this?" 

"Hang the cost! Why should the fact that she's a woman matter? What difference does the variety of her sexual organs have in her work? Molly Hooper may very well be the best at determining a cause of death out of anyone in the city. Am I'm supposed to ignore her guidance because she had the misfortune of being born a woman? That is lunacy!"

"Well... Yes!" Watson answered causing Holmes to groaned aloud at his friend. "I'm not saying that it is right that she be treated in such a manner. But Holmes, you know they'd do their damnedest, (do forgive my use of the language ladies.) Watson turned to them immediately rounding back to Sherlock. "They would do anything to discredit her, dismiss anything she says as inconsequential. Slander, abuse we've both known some of them to use tactics of less than pure ethics to implicate those they want the evidence to show guilt upon. Do you wish Miss Hooper, our dear Mrs Hudson's own niece to suffer? For suffer she would. Dearly."

Mrs Hudson gently sobbed and held a hanky to her face while a she clutched at the said nieces hand while Molly contemplated the matter her mouth set in a grim line. Her deep, dark eyes remained on Holmes awaiting his response. The standing mans own light eyes stayed locked on hers as he internally debated the matter, even as her aunt spoke again. "Oh Molly, how could you even consider throwing away all hopes of a future? No man with any sense at all would consider accepting you as his wife and to Mother his children if you had that sort of blight on your name."

Doctor Watson nodded stepping away from Holmes to look again at Molly. "I'm inclined to agree. The services you performed with your father is a credit to you as a devoted daughter. But to perform such actions as a single woman to support herself would be abhorrent to those men who may wish to marry you. Not having to work with the dead any longer is a blessing, I'd say!"

"Why is it what I wish to do with my own future has naught to do with this discussion!" Molly suddenly burst out. "You all sit here debating and deciding my future and what is best for me as if I were a child still. I am adult in possession of a good strong will and mind. Also, I'm not some harpy given to fits of whimsy or delusions. I make sound judgements. Therefore, I wish you all to allow me to take the path that I choose."

"There, you see! Miss Hooper has made her decision. She is aware of the dangers to her but is up to the task." Holmes chuckled and grinned. To him the matter was settled. 

"Mr. Holmes?" Molly softly spoke, drawing his attention 

"Yes?" He asked with half his attention. The other part of his mind was busy forming plans.

"The offer... I fear that I was perhaps too hasty in giving my answer this morning."

"You can not mean to actually listen to them?" He asked astounded. "Truly, I thought more of you than that, Molly."

"Sir, please. You must see too the points that they have are, for the most part, valid." Molly spoke with a dagger filled glance at Watson. "All I would simply ask you for is some time... Time to consider fully the paths before me that I may make the best decision for my future. Whatever that may be." Her heavy glance now rested on her aunt looking for her approval. 

Huffing, Sherlock nodded. "I suppose I must grant you your request. And yet I should like to remind you of how much you will be able to assist others when you allow yourself to use your knowledge. That you would be working for the greater good. The lives you will save; the peace of mind only you will be able to give grieving families."

The young woman nodded twice. "I will bear that in mind sir."

Silence surrounded the room. Heavy and oppressive with the multiple layers of strain upon each occupant. They sat equals where just this morning one had been subservient to the rest, Watson mused. None of them would have ever dared describe Mrs Hudson with her duel title of landlady and housekeeper as a mere servant. No, the dear lady would occasionally find herself having a nightcap with her tenants as they told her of their exploits. 

The tension he knew now was all do the lovely (he would admit it willingly) addition of the young lady. A single, young lady who was currently residing under the same roof as two eligible bachelors Doctor Watson realized. "Miss Hooper, if I may also add to your thoughts. Should you except my friends unorthodox proposal, where would you be residing?"

"Why she'd be here of course! Where else would she be." Holmes demanded. 

Mrs Hudson groaned aloud once more, "oh Molly." Whilst the young woman had the self-respect to look properly chastised. 

"What?!" Sherlock continued to demand, his dark mood was returning with remarkable virility. 

"Two unmarried gentleman and a single woman living together, Holmes, it's not done in proper society." The elder man spoke as if he were reminding a child of his manners.

"Of course it is done! We see it all the time, Watson." His indignation flashed. 

"Right. Yes, of course. We see it in illicit assignations and in murders and spouses convinced that their wives of husbands have strayed. 

“We are ridiculed and scrutinized enough just the two of us. And a pretty young thing like Miss Hooper in the mix of the Baker Street residents and I shudder to imagine the rumors then."

"What of it!? She has already resided here for nearly a fortnight! It was no danger to us then."

"The difference was her status." The doctor wearily attempted to remind Holmes of the ways of the world. "There is an insurmountable difference between Molly and Miss Hooper. It makes no difference that they are one and the same person. It is the title and its distinction that matters to the world."

Sherlock watched Miss Hooper's breaths grow tight. She was indeed concerned over her fragile reputation. Which meant she would not consent to assist him. He'd lose the chance to work with her brilliant mind at his disposal and the loss turned him into an overgrown man child. He stomped to the adjoining study and yanked a chair out before heavily flopping down into it and crossing his arms. Such actions would have earned him a whipped tail as a child, but he felt such exercises were warranted if Molly Hooper was to once more forever give up her vocation as a... Well to be honest he didn't know what her title would have been. Something I'd have had to invent, he decided then what a pair we two will be. The consulting detective and his to-be- determined consulting... Something.

Not that it mattered now. She was going to assist you. And Sherlock would have to do without her. 

"Perhaps it be best if I retired once more for the night." Miss Hooper gently spoke. "You have all given much for me to consider. I shall endeavor to have my answer to you tomorrow by this time, Mr Holmes. Goodnight, Doctor Watson, my dear aunt." Watson smiled his doctors smile at her once more, while patting her hand. Sherlock Holmes simply ignored her and looked deeply into the flames of the study's hearth. With him seeming to have said his peace she nodded at him before she bent and pressed lips to the woman's cheek before making her way toward the door. 

"You know I would consider all three of you some of the finest minds in all of Great Britain and I'm worried that out of all of you I'm the one that had to come up with a solution to this problem." Mrs Hudson spoke, her confidence obvious. They all turned to look at her, waiting for her to continue 

"Go on, Mrs Hudson. Astonish us with the solution to the plight of not just Miss Hooper but to all women who wish to hold a specialized vocation." Groused the man in the study. 

"My dear boy, I don't flatter myself to be able to assist all woman but for our special needs the answer is obvious." She held a baited breath, as if awaiting the rest of the room room catch on. "My niece should remain in her position as housemaid."

"That seems rather anticlimactic, aunt." Miss Hooper intoned. 

"No, but don't you see!" She motioned to the three. "Is the best place for her. She has a suitable employment an acceptable residence…” The three younger adults looked at her with obvious disappointment. They clearly were missing what she was implying “ Even if it were in name only..."

"Then Miss Hooper would be able to stay here with her reputation unblemished but still be able to work with me as needed." Sherlock stood fast as a bolting mustang striding back into the sitting room in no less than two strides of his lengthy legs coming to pull Molly to face him, gently squeezing her arms in his excitement looking at her closely to see her receptiveness before he dared restore his hope. "You'd have your time free too to be at the ready."

"It still wouldn't solve the problem of a woman at the crime scene." Watson challenged.

"I... What if you were to need something delivered to you at the locations? An urgent correspondence or... Something." Molly finished dumbly, more than a little flustered to be held in Sherlock’s arms again, even with space between them. Particularly when he looked at her like he was; as if the whole of his future happiness depended on this one decision.

"That wouldn't be believable past two or three occasions." Holmes predicted. But still it was a chance. If Lestrade could just see she was worthy and capable perhaps… just perhaps...

"We could sneak her in?" Watson shared. "Something we could come up with something. That's if you decide you still want to be involved, Miss Hooper."

She thought a moment, but truly the decision had been already made. How could it not be? Molly smiled a bit of mischievous smile at the man who held her, but addressed her words to Doctor Watson. "Molly. Please, call me Molly."

The smile Holmes gave to her answer made her heart feel as though it had slipped a beat but it was insignificant compared to the sensation she gave as he shocked the room by kissing her temple and spinning her with near glee in a rare show of exuberance. "Fantastic, Molly!" He then pulled Mrs Hudson up before doing the same to her, kissing both cheek and praising her.. "You marvelous, marvelous woman!"

Meanwhile, Watson stood and came to stand near Molly, watching the unguarded expression of infatuation that had slipped into her face completely unawares. "Have a care though, Miss Molly." He lowly whispered. "The gentleman is not to be given to romance."

"I have no idea what you mean, Doctor Watson." She spoke quietly, soothing her hands on her dress.

"Just do have a care." He let one corner of his mouth drag up before holding one hand out to her, not as a well trained man would to a lady but as a man to another man. "To our new partnership!" He spoke loudly.

"Oh this calls for a toast!" Mrs Hudson rushed to the decanter and poured four brandy's. "To the unique partnership of Holmes, Watson and Hooper!"

"That's Hudson, Holmes, Watson and Hooper, my dear lady." Sherlock kissed the older woman's hand. "You have saved the day. You are one of us!"

Laughing like a debutante, Mrs Hudson raised her glass, "oh well then, to us!"

"To us!" The other three repeated and downed their own drinks. They smiled gregariously and relaxed, feeling settled; as though they'd finally reached the end of a long journey. It wasn't until the older gentlewoman and doctor noticed that their younger companions were holding each other's eyes with a soft tender look that the two elders shared their own significant glances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you for your patience folks. And to my Beta thenewjefferson. Any mistakes are my own. I also want to thank you for your reviews, kudos and follows. Oh how my heart warms with them.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Food trigger warning? If you're Squeamish about cooking you may need to pass by this one. Also my apologies for taking so long. This summer has pretty much left me as a solo parent to two highly active children while my husband got a huge new contract. And since I write on phone I've had constant distractions from the kids to play various games (I'm side-eyeing you, Pokemon Go). Seriously though, I've tried to reason with them to let me write and they for some reason do not care that mommy wants to write and people are asking her for in some writers Unsuremess And boom. No updates. But I'm working on me. Fall and early winter are already looking to be hectic, but I'm giving it my all. The comments and notes sent to me have been a huge motivator. Every new follower has pushed me all that much harder too.)Also this chapter was directly inspired by another of Umeko-Sherlolly's sets of Victorian Sherlolly. Specifically the kitchen set.

The late afternoon sun poured she stood alone in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up past her elbows and an apron on over her striped work dress while her hands were deep in a cooked chicken. While cooking was not part of her new duties of employment it was still a task she volunteered. I fact, she performed a vast majority of her former tasks due out of boredom and as she had argued with Aunt Martha to keep up appearances of a maid she would need to in fact be a maid. The dear hadn't liked the idea but at the end of the day she did still need help. Besides, it wasn't as if she had had an opportunity to be called to work at her other vocation. For the time being she was content to work as she had since her employment began. It wasn't always going to be emptying chamber pots and dusting cobwebs, after all. Another grin overtook her face again, just as it had at the oddest times in recent day. So content she was to here! She even began humming an old ditty her father used to sing to her as she allowed herself to be engrossed in the simple task of removing the meat from the carcass.

Aunt Martha had cooked the bird for supper yesterday. All day it had filled the home with a delicious, aroma but the chicken hadn't even finished cooking when a knock sounded on the front door.

Softly, Molly chuckled to herself at the memory. Oh how amusing that reintroduction had been! She'd been sweeping the entryway when the determined sounding knock came on the door. Upon opening it Molly had come face to face with the unforgettable mutton chops of the one and only Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade; a man she knew from several visits he had paid to her Father's mortuary over the years. He, however, clearly had no remembrance of her as he merely looked at her, nodded good afternoon before launching into announcing himself as if they hadn't ever met before inquiring whether Mr Holmes was in residence at the moment.

She had always heard that people, (the male of their species in particular) were blind to anyone in service but to experience such blatant ignorance herself left her amazed and a bit amused at the man's nonrecognition. Molly had led him up the stairs to where Holmes and Watson had been discussing the good Doctor's newest publication and made the announcement. After announcing Lestrade's arrival she had then done her so called maids duty to ask if anything else was needed. Holmes who had sat watching the interactions between the detective inspector and herself seemed to have determined the unspoken connection and with a look of mischievous amusement filling his eyes made the request for tea and biscuits.

Molly bobbed her slight curtsy before departing the room without another bit of attention from the three gentleman. Molly made her way back into room to deliver the tray setting it down on the table beside the doctor. The inspector was explaining the details of a missing wife of some rather important sounding citizen but Holmes had his eyes on the the tea set as she prepared three cups exactly how each gentleman preferred without their telling. On and on he went, pausing only for Molly to hand him his overly sweetened tea pausing only to thank her, unaware that he had not been asked how he preferred it.

"Will that be all, sir?" She asked softly. "Yes, I believe so. Thank you, Molly." Mr Holmes had smiled showing her his amusement for just the briefest of moments before turning his attention back to Lestrade, "do go on. I know you have more to tell. Spit it out, will you man!" The visitor wore a perplexed expression as he looked from his cup to Holmes then to her before returning to look at his sometimes colleague with a puzzled look.

She had become so engrossed in her memory, particularly that of that smile he'd given her before she left the room, that she failed to notice that she was no longer alone in the kitchen. "My, but you are in a cheerful mood this afternoon, Molly." An amused voice spoke out from behind her. Twisting her neck Molly saw Mr. Holmes leaning with arms crossed on his chest and one leg crossed the other foot balanced on the toe as he leaned against the door frame. His unique face looked irresistibly charming in his current good humor so relaxed and completely at ease. In her surprise Molly dropped the carving knife she was using sending it clattering to the plate below her. "I do hope I'm not interrupting you." He spoke through a light chuckle.

"No sir. Of course not. What can I do for you, sir?" Molly found herself asking, feeling very foolish indeed for being caught unawares.

For a brief moment he looked at her before seeming to come to a decision, "you can call me Holmes for starters Molly. It wouldn't be untoward, As all my other associates do." He sauntered near her, eyes bright as the sun filled sky. Just as dazzling too. So captivating that she stumbled a moment trying to remember how to speak. "Thank you, that's very kind of you. But if it's all the same to you I'd prefer to keep with the title of Sir. Else wise I fear I may then forget myself and that would never do. Best I continue to address you as Mr Holmes and sir" A cheeky grin helped calm her nerves of refusal. "Sir"

"Ah, yes. A very sound reasoning, I must concede. One should never fault another for using sound logic. After all, I shouldn't want you to become careless. We've much work to do, you and I. "

"No, no indeed. What can I do you now sir? Has… has a need for my skills come up?" She inquired eagerly.

Chuckling again, Holmes moved closer still into the kitchen, coming to rest his hands just on the other side of the table she was working at. "You seem almost keen for a murder to have occurred, Molly." His voice rang full of mock censure as he clucked his tongue in disapproval before he broke into the most glorious of smiles. One that made her chest tighten and her stomach flutter. He leaned in, almost as if admitting a guarded secret, complete with a lowered conspiratorial whisper. "It's a sentiment I myself often share." Oh his smiles made her feel queer then the way his voice rumbled through her made her feel as if she had been struck by lightning.

"Oh no! I only meant that-" face aflame she started to apologize. She truly did not wish for someone to die- only anxious to get to working again. And with him once more.

"Never fear. I well understand your frame of mind. Times when there is no interesting cases are especially tedious and leave me restless and in a most cantankerous mood. But never fear, dear girl. Humanity is certain to fail it's morals sooner rather than later." Then without ever breaking eye contact with her m his hand reached into the to the bowl of chicken between them before popping a bite into his mouth, eyes brightening as he savored the bite. "Delicious." Molly felt another dizzying current of attraction through her and she wished she could turn away from him, but felt nearly as if she were trapped in his own gaze. Had he meant to do this to her? Enter a flirtation with her simply to grab at handfuls of chicken?

Continuing his advantage with her distraction, Holmes stole yet another bite. Then another. "Oh no! Stop it now, you!" Unthinking she swatted at his hand smacking him as if he were a naughty schoolboy sneaking a treat. Not so unlike Archie. Only his wasn't a child she was dealing with. It was after all still her employer that she has just hit.

Oh god.

Fortunately, the man found her reaction amusing and completely un-daunting as he went again for another mouthful of chicken faking her out reaching around her other side. "Stop that you! I'll not have enough to make the pie we've got planned for dinner if you keep that mess up." Molly fixed her sternest look on him, one that made him slow down, if only slightly. "Come now, Molly. I haven't eaten in two days and that chicken is mouthwateringly good. Do not deprive me, poor wretched,starving man that I am!"

The man was undoubtedly now turning all his charm on her and it was... Oh it was impossible to say no to him. "If you're hungry grab you may grab apple there by the sink. I'll finish the pie and then fix you up a sandwich. That is if there's any chicken left over after you've already had quite a snack. Agreed?" She arched her brow up at him and then realized she was also waving the knife at him while she spoke.

Drat.

Sighing, as if she'd asked him to complete the most tedious of tasks the impertinent man nodded in contempt but stood to move to the counter grabbing an apple from the tray they lay on tossing up and down twice before biting into it. So like Archie, Molly thought again. Or perhaps that's where the lad had learned the habit. He did so idolize the man after all.

Molly expected him to wander off after he got his promise of food, and yet he remained apparently content to stay in the kitchen for the time being as he not leaned himself against the sink eating. After several bites, he spoke again, watching her from the side as he rested against the sink. "Lestrade genuinely seems to have no idea whom you really are."

"No?" She looked over at him casting an eyebrow up as if to say 'oh well'.

"Although, he was very curious about the 'lovely little thing' we'd hired." He took another bite and managed to roll his eyes at the same moment. Against her will and consciousness, Molly felt her heart constrict at his dismissal. It shouldn't matter one tick what Sherlock Holmes or Gregory Lestrade or anyone else for that matter thought of her physical appearance... But it did a tiny bit she hated to admit to herself. "Was he now?"

"Oh yes. The man is rather fond of many a pretty face normally. Never fear though. He kept speaking of you, saying you reminded him of someone that he just could not place. He may be a moron at times but he does occasionally redeem himself in the end. This may be one such fine occasion. Besides, you managed to also leave an indelible impression on him with your tea 'trick'. The man was congratulating me on finding such a novel housemaid, if you can believe it. Wanted to know where we'd stolen you from " He tilted his head mischievously and smiled. "I told him that he has yet to see all the remarkable things that our Molly could do."

"Sir!" What a great number of scandalous ways that sentence might be taken. She flushed hot with mortification at the very thought! But also another thrill... Our Molly. Such pride he felt for her! Oh Stop it you great ninny, she chastised herself. Just stop it, now.

"Oh no, not you too. I assure you, Watson has berated me enough about my careless words and all their many, many potential implications while we were on the case. On and on he went in his lecture.

But he will place you eventually, mark my word. You know it as well as I do that he will see you at some point and know you to be Miss Hooper, formerly of Hooper's Mortuary and not simply Molly. It is merely a matter of time."

A matter of time. "And do you think he will accept my work? Even as a maid? Do you believe he will still listen to my findings as he once did?"

For a moment Holmes stoked and seemed lost in his thoughts but eventually nodded once to her in agreement. "If he was able to see use me despite the wretched state I had been in at the beginning of our acquaintance than I should not think him too opposed to being abject to your profession. Prior or current. He is a good man after all. And a damn fine officer." Then as an absolute afterthought he mumbled a "do forgive my language."

Wanting to change the subject Molly had inquired after the whereabouts of Doctor Watson. "Oh he fancied himself lonely and has taken a lady out to supper for some much needed 'tea and sympathy' no doubt. I shouldn't expect him home till tomorrow."

Molly stilled her perpetration and looked at him again "You can't mean that he has a... a-"

"A lover?" He supplied with an enviable amount of nonchalance. After a another bite of his fruit, Holmes seemed to be considering a thought. It took him another bite to ask it however. "You seem surprised to learn he has a lover. Why is that? I never took you as the type to hold strongly to puritanical beliefs- else you could never have worked with the dead as you have. Besides, most females seem to find the good doctor rather irresistible more often than not. Do you not think him as handsome and charming, as the others do?"

In her flabbergasted state she blurted out the truth, "he most certainly isn't my idea of a handsome man." Blanching she worried then that her denial had been a bit too obvious, especially when she stood so in the shadow of the all seeing man before her now. For surely, surely he must see that she found no one as charming and as alluring as himself. It was also now occurring to her that it was only the two of them alone in Baker Street and together. Rather than try to explain. Instead she sought to change the subject. "Mrs Hudson should be home soon, I should think." Molly stated, as means to segway their conversation into safer harbors.

"Hmmm." Sherlock murmured, in thought. "Oh no, I'd be entirely shocked if she were. She has a standing appointment that she never miss on the second Tuesday of each month with a certain merchant that sells her what he claims are his own particular discovery of herbal soothers.

"I doubt that cannabis oil he sells is capable of doing half the wonders he claims but the herbal soothers do seem to help with her pain. They've also helped her appetite come back which is a good thing for us all. More puddings. Although those are known to bring Mycroft around more often. But all in all, Mrs Hudson will take her time returning home and will do doubt come home with arms bulging full of delicacy she has procured on the way." He went on before taking another bite

"...Oh." Molly awkwardly laughed a slightly more nervous laugh. "Yes. Yes of course." Hadn't Aunt Martha mentioned she had a few extra stops to make herself before leaving? The thought occurred to her then that her mental clarity must be off to to how distracting the man before her looked with the rare unguarded expression he wore. But then it changed and narrows on her and she felt positively hunted. "I wonder about you Molly, humanity is susceptible to a great number of character deficiencies. You've seen some of mine in the time of our acquaintance; Watson has his Lovers, Mrs Hudson has her soothers... but what vice have you?"

"I..." She paused and puzzled the query. "I don't think I know of any yet. Unless you count finding great pleasure in reading."

"Which I do not." He was quick to dismiss.

No, of course you wouldn't, not in comparison to strutting around nude and needing complete silence while you lie about in the mornings. She sighed, more wistful than intended. "Then... I don't think I know it yet sir."

"Perhaps soon enough you'll have the opportunity to find one. You get an afternoon off soon I imagine.." Holmes began then to get an odd, far off look about him. "Do have care to choose well. Vices have a way of carrying one further than one could ever anticipate."

"I shall do my best." She said seriously. For some reason though she couldn't bear to finish their conversation on such a serious note. "I'd thought to perhaps take in the theater."

"Ah, yes. Well, that's still not what I would consider a true vice although do make sure it's a quality show you see, not some unspeakably awful modern comedic opera, Molly. By god, that would be unbearable torture to have to hear the ludicrous antics of Gilbert and Sullivan in this house."

With a laugh she answered "Well... we all do enjoy silly things." Her smile beamed up at him. " Lowly minded people that we are."

"They do don't they?" He considered his apple, taking one final bite from it so too was Molly with her job with reading the meat. She went to the sink to pump out some water to rid her hands of the greasy residue, swiftly hissing as the lye from the bar of soap she used bit into the small cuts so frequently found on her hands these days. "Are you hurt?" Holmes immediately turned grabbing her hand to see what could be wrong.

Hastily Molly tried in vain to remove her hand. "Oh it it nothing. Nothing! Just some silly soap finding its way into a cut. Surprised me this time is all. I shall be fine." She pulled again, but he wouldn't release her hand, only drawing it up closer to his eyes. "I will. Think nothing of it."

"Your hands are positively worn." He sounded oddly surprised at the notion. As if he had forgotten that she were still performing tasks as a laborer and not one of the fine ladies a gentleman such as he must know. Embarrassment flooded over her anew but battled with pride. She worked with her hands and would not be ashamed of that. "It is a part of the job, sir. I am quite alright. Quite used to it,actually. It just took me unawares this time for some reason is all."

For a moment Sherlock seemed to consider something before lowering her hand and releasing it leaving her feeling ridiculously bereft at the loss.

These strange moments, these feelings; they were dangerous. She knew it and how inappropriate not to mention fruitless such ideas would be. Sherlock Holmes was known to proclaim himself married to his work. And even if he were a gentleman in need of a wife he would never even consider courting someone like her. Which only left one other path; a path she wasn't prepared to let her mind dwell on.

"Well I have some work to do... I shall leave you now." Swiftly he moved to leave, leaving Molly alone once more. This time when she started to hum her song was a bit more reserved than the happy tune from before but as she moved on to mix the vegetables she had chopped with the chicken she found peace in the process. A busy mind has not time to dream of what can never be...

With a heavy sigh she got back to work.

Mindful to keep her thoughts on the chicken pie and nothing else.

That night, as she yawned her way down the stairs she had all but forgotten all the strange time spent with her employer earlier in the day. It has been a good day. Honest work and a belly that was full from supper. It was more than many had she knew. Her mind was worn as well from doing more mathematical equations with Archie after supper. Her body too, was aching for the rest that her bed would give. Sighing she reached the small room that was her sanctuary and pulled off her boots and gown, hanging it. As she rounded back to remove the damnable corset she saw something out of place on the table top beside her parents picture. A small tin along with a note. Curiously she lifted the lid from the tin finding it filled with a heavy thick salve. Sniffing at the contents, she was surprised at the pleasant smell of almond oil and lavender mixed with the unmistakable scent is beeswax. It smelled rather divine.

Moving to the note she lifted it up and immediately noted the familiar paper Mr Holmes used in his correspondences and on it a note he had clearly left for her to find.

Molly,

I find that I do not like seeing those in my employee in pain. This is a proven remedy that I've concocted for you to use on your hands. It should help. Do take care of yourself for I have a great need for you yet. - SH

He had made this? For her? She took another whiff of the salve admiring it's pleasant aroma all the more. Hastily she readied herself for bed anxious to use the product. As she settled herself in to bed she once more reread the brief note before dipping a finger into the tin before smoothing it over her hands and wrists. Then, once the candle had been extinguished she lay down with her hands beneath her face, the soothing scent leading her off to a restful sleep.


End file.
